<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ivan Chronicles by iamfrom101</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396280">Ivan Chronicles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfrom101/pseuds/iamfrom101'>iamfrom101</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls Online</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adopted Children, F/M, Father Figures, Lovers to lovers, M/M, Still bad at tagging lol, domestic stuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:08:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>56,269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfrom101/pseuds/iamfrom101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some drabbles of mine with a couple of my OCs and an OC belonging to my friend (I got their permission to post). This fic will have a handful of chapters, all related to each other, but hardly in order. Be warned about the time jumping. Shouldn't be too hard to follow.<br/>Very few of my works are beta read, but I spend a lot of time going back and editing my chapters. Doesn't make them flawless, but better than they were while I was writing them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fennorian (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s), OC Ivan Björkman &amp; Jorunn the Skald-King, OC Ivan Björkman &amp; OC Vulf'dar, OC Kaia Vî-Björkman / Jorunn the Skald-King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Mara's Blessings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I actually wrote a bit of smut here, but I'm self-conscious about it, so it'll be replaced with something else. You'll know when you see it. Just use your imagination lol<br/>Sorry about the length of the first two chapters. Just with the first alone, it reached 57 pages in Word, and I somehow managed to write and fully edit it in four days' time. I got possessed and just went for it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Mara’s Blessings</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">Ivan POV</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Ocean Eyes</span>
  </em>
  <span class="u"> by Billie Eilish</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">everything i wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span class="u"> by Billie Eilish</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Eternal Energy</span>
  </em>
  <span class="u"> by Ean Grimm</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Around the Fire</span>
  </em>
  <span class="u"> by Jeremy Soule</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After Mother went to Oblivion, I was a mess—for several years. I bargained. I pleaded. I roamed Tamriel in hopes of blocking out my feelings of loss. Or trying to find a way to get her out. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. At least Jorunn got to. But to my knowledge, Vulf still has no idea.</p>
<p>I now lie in some tavern on the border of Western Skyrim, up to my gills in mead and cheap wine. This has become my personality: the drunkard in the corner you really should leave alone.</p>
<p>I started to feel a pull toward Western Skyrim after about a year of her being gone. All the stories she told me about when she was there, when she helped save Skyrim’s children from annihilation—when she saved all of Tamriel from the clutches of the feared Rada al-Saran—this all being just shortly after she and Father started courting. She told me of her companions—Lyris Titanborn, Princess Svana, and Fennorian of House Ravenwatch—and how the four of them together stopped the plague that was the harrowstorms. It seemed they had a strong bond.</p>
<p>For a year, I’ve been making a slow migration across Covenant, Aldmeri, and Ebonheart territories, slowly making my way to the colder regions of Mother Skyrim—to places I’ve never been before.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After a couple months of travelling, I finally found myself at The Lonely Troll in Solitude, continuing my most prominent characteristic of being the tavern drunkard. I sat in my chair wallowing in self-pity, my newest behaviour, for a few hours until I was wasted enough to need a room. I rented one—paying so much in advance, I practically bought it—and settled in for the night.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When I wake in the morning, I don’t have the fear of being hungover—it’s come and gone, my body being rather used to the sensation of being drunk and having to deal with it the following morning at this point.</p>
<p>I walk down to the bar and order a hearty breakfast—a tankard of ale. I slam it down before heading outside, roaming around the town of Solitude for a while, looking at shops and stands. I look at the Mages and Fighters Guilds. I peek into The Antiquarian Circle, telling myself I’ll be back later—at some point—to join their merry band. Once I’m done here, I head to the main square. I saw a magus’s stall on my way into the tavern yesterday and thought I’d check it out, now that it’s open.</p>
<p>The man who is present seems the scholarly type—wearing robes befitting of his status—but his wares are subpar. His glyphs are cracked, his runestones hardly legible. I ask about his little pile of soul gems.</p>
<p>“How much for one?” I ask, pointing to an empty geode in front of me.</p>
<p>“For that one, three-hundred gold.”</p>
<p>I nearly choke on the very air around me. “Three-hundred?! Are you daft?” I look at the gem again. Its condition telling me it’s seen far better days. “It’s not even filled—it’s empty. I could see that price for one with the work already put in. But an <em>empty</em> soul gem? You’re out of your mind.”</p>
<p>He ignores my tirade. “Supply and demand, my good sir. If I had more, the price would be lower. But, alas, I am not so fortunate.”</p>
<p>Blinking in unbelieving distrust, I go to walk away, but turn back around to add a swift, “Good day,” and storm back to the pub, my curiosity about the market deflated.</p>
<p>I sit at one of the tables contemplating whether or not to order a mug of cider to boost my spirits. My head is propped, resting atop my hand, when a stranger walks up to me, clearly aware of my sitting alone but not particularly caring.</p>
<p>“Good afternoon,” he addresses me. I look up at him and get a better look.</p>
<p>He’s plainly a vampire—that’s the first thing I notice. His eyes are a dull red and his top lip protrudes ever so slightly from where he must be hiding small fangs. His hair is a brown color and sitting at a wavy shoulder length, his skin has quite the pallor to it. This Altmer looks at me with a small smile on his lips. <em>Friendly vampire?</em></p>
<p>“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he continues, “but I couldn’t help but notice how you reacted to the magus’s price on soul gems out in the square. Quite ridiculous, isn’t it?” <em>He followed me in here?</em></p>
<p>“Yeah,” I agree. “It was about six times the amount I’m used to paying.”</p>
<p>“Likewise. You must be a healer, too?” I nod. “I thought so.” He smiles, then gestures to the bench on the other side of the table. “Mind if I join you?”</p>
<p>He seems nice enough, so I reply, “Knock yourself out.”</p>
<p>The man takes a seat and crosses his hands in front of him. <em>A polite vampire with manners,</em> I think. <em>What’s this world coming to?</em></p>
<p>After sitting in silence for a minute, I ask, “So, what brought you in here? Since you were apparently outside, why’d you decide to come into the tavern?”</p>
<p>He looks a little uneasy, as if he doesn’t want to say. But after a deep breath, he responds. “You interested me at the magus’s stall, and I wanted to see if you were that interesting all the time.”</p>
<p>He seems to be brash and to the point—I can respect that.</p>
<p>“I see. Well, what do you think now that you’re talking to me?”</p>
<p>He eyes me with his head cocked to the side a bit. “Normally, I’d say a man who’s had ale for breakfast and is thinking about having another for lunch is not the type of man I’d want to engage in conversation with. But I’ll make an exception.” He pauses for a second. “So, I’d say you’re relatively fascinating.” He grins a bit.</p>
<p>I know I should not like his words, this situation. He just called me “fascinating” after only hearing a few sentences from my mouth. He somehow knows what my “eating” habits are, even though he hasn’t seen me consume anything. And yet, I find him as intriguing as he seems to find me. I know I should be wary of him, but I can’t help but feel… safe… in is presence. <em>Is he pulling some vampire mind tricks on me or something?</em></p>
<p>I smile back at him, despite myself. “I’m Ivan Björkman.”</p>
<p>He chuckles a little bit, looking at the table. “I knew a Björkman once—although it’s been a couple decades since I’ve seen her, easily.” He looks back at me. “I wonder if there’s any connection?” I shrug. “I’m Fennorian of House Ravenwatch.”</p>
<p>My jaw hits the floor and I feel my heartbeat go quicker. He no doubt can hear this and looks concerned. “What’s the matter?” He looks over to the bar, as if in search to a cure for my sudden ailment.</p>
<p>“<em>You’re</em> Fennorian?” I choke out.</p>
<p>He looks back to me, his brows pinched together. “Yes?”</p>
<p>I begin laughing, my disbelief taking over my shock. He still looks concerned for my well-being.</p>
<p>It all makes sense now. An Altmer vampire freely walking the streets of Solitude, medium-length brown hair, the manners—all of it. This is the man Mother told me about.</p>
<p>I finally find my words and try to explain, wanting to ease his anxiety. “Oh, man. Mum would not believe this.” He looks confused now, his emotions shifting as quickly as my own. “Kaia Vî-Björkman. That’s where you heard the name, yes?” He nods, making me laugh all the more. In the back of my mind, I register heads in the pub turning toward our table, but I find I don’t care much. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her last?”</p>
<p>He keeps his troubled face intact as he replies, “Probably pretty close to thirty years.”</p>
<p>I keep laughing, it decreasing in boisterousness somewhat, giving myself the biggest boost of serotonin I’ve had in years while Fennorian looks on with as much alarm as ever.</p>
<p>Finally calming myself enough to speak again, I state, “She’s my mother,” still smiling at him.</p>
<p>Now his jaw is the one to hit the floor. “Kaia had a family?” He looks down to the table, looking like he finds this revelation difficult to wrap his head around.</p>
<p>“Well… sort of. I’m her only child,” I correct.</p>
<p>He looks from the table to me, seeming to inspect my features a bit harder now.</p>
<p>“I thought she was courting King Jorunn. Seems that didn’t work out and she found a Breton suitor instead…”</p>
<p>I snicker. “No, no, Jorunn <em>is</em> my father. Well… in a way. My birth mother is dead and my birth father—the Breton you speak of—lives in Rivenspire. He didn’t even know I was born. Kaia took me in shortly after birth and automatically became Mother to me. I grew up with Jorunn as a sort of adopted father—he’s always treated me like a son along with his own, even though Irnskar is much older than me. The three of us are what makes the family you’re wondering about. Us three, and a man Mother grew up with—from time to time, that is.”</p>
<p>Fennorian gives a slight grin. “I’m glad she’s had a good life while away from Solitude. I suppose she lives in Eastmarch with King Jorunn then, right? That’s why she hasn’t been back? She’s been busy more than likely with being a king’s wife, no doubt.”</p>
<p>“They only married seven years ago,” I inform him. “And she spent so much time away because she was raising me in the Rift until I turned eighteen. That’s when I left to find my birth father. But she, uh…” I stop short, my intense happiness from a few minutes ago completely dissipating.</p>
<p>He senses something’s gone amiss. “What happened?”</p>
<p>“Long story short, I made a stupid decision when I was looking for my birth father. It ended with me being stabbed with a Daedric poison-covered dagger. Mother found me and tried to get the best mages to heal me, but it was no use.</p>
<p>“She used her Oblivion magic to go to Meridia’s realm and struck a deal with her. If Meridia would heal me, allowing me to be alive and healthy, Mum would stay in the Coloured Rooms with her until I died—however long that took, as long as it wasn’t from the poison. But then she deepened the deal to include a friend of ours that was also in that realm.</p>
<p>“Mother told Meridia that she’d stay there with her until all on Nirn had died—and without a way of seeing what was happening down here, like she was able beforehand—if only she’d send Darien, our friend, back to the Mundus to find me and give me her message.</p>
<p>“Mother’d been watching me and knew I was having a hard time with her being gone. She wanted Darien to tell me to stop trying to find a way to rescue her, that she’d made her decision and had no regrets. And that she loved me.” I swallow hard.</p>
<p>“It was difficult to hear that—all of that.” My nose has gone runny, and I sniffle. “I’ll never get to see her again.” I run my hand across my eyes, catching the stray tears that have appeared in my sudden moment of strong sorrow.</p>
<p>Fennorian reaches his hand toward me, laying it on the table between us. “I’m so sorry, Ivan.” He’s quiet for a moment before adding, “Is there someplace more private you wish to be? This is hardly the place for a discussion like this.”</p>
<p>“Sure. My room, just upstairs.” After a bit, I stand and head toward the stairs. “Care to join me?” I ask, turning back to the vampire. I find a strange comfort in his presence.</p>
<p>He stands silently and follows me as I lead us to my rented room.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once making it to my room, I apologized for the lack of chairs. I lounged on the bed and told him that if he wished to make himself comfortable, not to let me stand in his way. He sat up next to me, our conversation continuing from downstairs, seemingly not disturbed by us—two strangers almost—in such close quarters with one another.</p>
<p>After a little while, my nerves settle down and we can broach other subjects.</p>
<p>“So, what made you decide to stay here in Solitude, Fennorian?” I ask.</p>
<p>“If you want, you can just call me Fenn. That was a popular name for me back when I worked with Kaia.”</p>
<p>I test it out. “Fenn…” I like it. I smile at him and rephrase my question. “What made you stay here in Solitude, Fenn?”</p>
<p>“Well… after the moot, Svana became Queen. I wasn’t sure I needed to be here anymore—my time helping Skyrim was over—and so I went back to Rivenspire for a time, spent some time with the other members of House Ravenwatch there. But it just didn’t feel like home anymore. I decided to come back, where Svana granted me full amnesty within the walls. I’ve been living around here ever since.”</p>
<p>“Not in the city?”</p>
<p>“I made a dwelling for myself out in the bog with an old acquaintance. But, no, I only come to visit from time to time. The temptation of so many people is too much most of the time, you understand. So, I only come into town when I need something.”</p>
<p>I give him another smile. “Well, I’m glad you needed something today, I guess.”</p>
<p>He smiles back, albeit with some reserve. “Yes, I’m glad as well. You’re more interesting than I was originally anticipating in the marketplace.” His smile fades a bit. “I need to leave soon, though. My flask is nearly empty, and I’d loathe myself if I attacked someone.” I understand that the members of House Ravenwatch only feed on those who are willing to donate their lifeblood.</p>
<p>I nod in understanding, a yawn portraying the hour. He continues. “It seems now is a good time to take my leave,” he says as he gets up from the bed, heading toward the door. I get up so I can close it after him.</p>
<p>“Thank you for staying and talking, Fenn. I’ve had a good time—learned a lot.” I think of all the things he told me about Mum back when she was younger, about the town during the time they saved it, about House Ravenwatch and more. We must have talked for a good three or four hours.</p>
<p>“It was my pleasure,” he retorts, turning just outside the threshold to face me. “I hope we cross paths again soon, Ivan—” He stops as if he was going to say something he thought better of. Taking a deep breath, he says what it was anyway. “I feel very drawn to you.”</p>
<p>I hesitate a moment myself before I admit, “Likewise.” He smiles at this, waves, and heads down the stairs. I back up into my room and close the door, unsure of how I feel about him leaving so suddenly.</p>
<p><em>He feels drawn to me, too? Is this why I’ve been feeling a pull toward Western Skyrim? The pull isn’t here anymore—I feel… Like I need…</em> I think for a minute, almost feeling a hole now that the room is empty—that I’m alone again. While he was here, the room was lively, it had a purpose. I didn’t feel so alone—like I’ve felt for the last four years since Mum left. The pull that led me here has seemed to move, directly out my door and down the stairs.</p>
<p>My body makes a decision before I do. I heave the door open, leaving my room to any and all who come across it, fling myself down the stairs, and look frantically as I walk through the tavern. None of the faces belong to the outgoing vampire I’ve come to enjoy.</p>
<p>I run out the door and into the town, looking both directions before catching sight of his back departing toward the city’s main gate.</p>
<p>“Fenn!”</p>
<p>He turns around, a look of pleasant surprise crossing his features as I make my way to him. Once I’m standing in front of him, I state as plainly as I can, hoping not to sound like a fruitcake, “I felt you leave—like your essence almost or something. And I found that I didn’t like that at all.”</p>
<p>He looks down, almost sheepishly. “I didn’t want to leave, but you were getting tired.” He looks up to the sky, the sun gone and the great constellations appearing. Looking back to me, “I still need to refill my flask.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about that tonight. Just don’t leave.” I hope he gets my meaning, gets that I mean to be a willing subject. <em>Don’t go back to the bog tonight—don’t leave me alone again.</em></p>
<p>He contemplates, seeming to almost decline my offer, but ultimately nods, saying nothing.</p>
<p>We retire back to my room for the evening.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I got a mug of water—not a brew of some sort for once—on my way back into the tavern, on my way to the room. Fenn waited for me patiently while the barkeep looked at him with suspicion, which he all but seemed to ignore.</p>
<p>When we got upstairs, he stepped out of his armour, leaving just his undershirt and trousers—that being all I even got dressed in this morning, so I stayed as is.</p>
<p>I finish my water and set it on the table next to me, next to one of the two burning candles keeping us from darkness’ door, then slip under the covers of the bed. Fenn just watches me from the door, a shyness I’ve yet to see from him evident.</p>
<p>“Well, are you coming?” I ask. “I don’t bite.” I smile at my little joke, but it makes him all the more uncomfortable, it seems. I sit up a little. “C’mon, Fennorian. Aren’t you thirsty?”</p>
<p>He looks me in the eyes finally with an ashamed look in his own. “A little.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m as willing as vassals go. I’ve always been curious what it feels like anyway.”</p>
<p>He slowly saunters over to the other side of the bed and climbs in underneath the covers as well. He still looks nervous.</p>
<p>In a silent invitation, I extend my head toward him, leaving the other side of my neck exposed. Looking him in the eyes, I try to radiate a sense of calm from myself, letting him know that it’s okay. He can feel it, from the look in his own eyes. I scoot down, changing my position from one of sitting into one of laying.</p>
<p>Leaning up and over my body, he reaches his head down. I can feel his cool breath on my jugular, and I embrace for the prick. It seems to take a while to come. Either he’s focusing on my heartrate or surprised at his own—with me this close, I can almost feel his, and I’m surprised at the speed of it. <em>Are vampires’ heartbeats normally this fast?</em></p>
<p>He nuzzles his nose into my neck, enjoying the scent, but he’s not breathing as deeply as I would assume he would to revel in this bouquet before him. He seems to be relishing it for more than that, as I find I am. I close my eyes, letting the sensations of the moment I’m caught up in take over me.</p>
<p>I feel it. The small prick of his fangs as they enter my neck. I hear myself gasp, expecting it to hurt more than it does. All I feel is a slight twinge of discomfort before it is replaced by something else. An almost pleasure? I find myself confused by this, but easily let it go as I feel minute amounts of my lifeforce leaving me to nourish Fenn.</p>
<p>A small moan escapes my lips, and I put my hand on his upper arm. In turn, I feel Fenn’s hand reach up and grip behind my neck, holding me in place. It’s gentle, caressing. His thumb sweeps the hallow beneath my ear.</p>
<p>We carry on like this for several more minutes, but before I can fully lose my mind, it’s over. Fennorian pulls his head away, not a single drop on his lips. <em>Clean drinker,</em> I think. He looks slightly disheartened, and I wonder how much paler I look.</p>
<p>“You should get some rest,” he tells me. “Being your first time, it will have taken quite a bit of energy from you.” I nod, already agreeing mentally with how tired I feel.</p>
<p>“Let me blow out the candles and I’ll go to sleep.”</p>
<p>I blow out the one next to me on the table and stand to blow out the sconce near the door. But I have to grab the bed’s columnar foot post in order not to topple onto my face.</p>
<p>“Ivan!” Fenn is over to me in a flash, having used his vampire mist to travel quicker. He grabs my arm and holds me up as I let go of the bedframe. “Oh gods, are you alright?”</p>
<p>I nod, but he’s not satisfied. He leads me to the bed and helps me lie back down, covers me up, before moving to the wall by the door himself to blow out the sconce.</p>
<p>Once he’s laid back down himself, he declares, “I think I took too much from you.”</p>
<p>“I feel fine,” I challenge.</p>
<p>“You may feel fine, but I’ve clearly interfered with your equilibrium. And that wasn’t right of me.” He drapes one arm across his stomach, the other made into a makeshift pillow beneath his head. He looks troubled and apologetic, yet he will not meet my gaze.</p>
<p>“I’ll recover, Fenn,” I notify him, making him finally look over to me. What he sees clearly upsets him, yet I continue, “Did I at least taste good?”</p>
<p>He looks to my neck, checking to see if the holes have sealed up properly. Bringing his red eyes back to my own blue ones, he affirms, “The best I’ve ever had.”</p>
<p>I smile at this and snuggle into the duvet more, falling asleep very easily.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When I wake up a few hours later, I find myself curled against my visitor’s side.</p>
<p>Fennorian is laying on his back, fast asleep. I notice his arm is snaked around my shoulder and his hand is resting lightly on my ribs. I’m surprised at our predicament, but not dismayed in the slightest—despite only knowing him for less than a day.</p>
<p>I continue laying here for a few minutes, not wanting to disturb his slumber. But then I realize my muscles are the stiffest they’ve been in eons. I have to stretch. Starting with my legs, I notice his breath—deep from sleep—stuttering a bit. But I’m so sore. I try to carefully exit his grasp, but it just tightens in response. The arm he has around me squeezes me to him. I hear a quiet sigh, as if in contentment. <em>I can wait a little while longer.</em></p>
<p>But I can’t. As quickly as I can, yet in the most undisruptive way I can manage, I flip onto my side, leaving my back to him. At least I can stretch a bit. But before long, I feel him moving, too. I think I’ve woken him up until I feel his arm settling over me again, caging me with my back to his chest.</p>
<p>With less pain from having stretched my muscles, and from feeling safer than I’ve felt in years, I fall back to sleep.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I wake again—but this time, feeling like it’s morning. My body still feels tired, but my mind shot awake instantly. I lay in my bed until I can feel my eyes are able to open without trouble.</p>
<p>The morning sun is smiling at me through the window. The bed feels different than it did in my dream. In the dream I was having right before waking up, the bed was warm and a place I never wanted to leave. It had a tad-taller-than-me High Elf in it—a vampire.</p>
<p>My hand darts the side of my neck, my body remembering being bitten last night. There’re no discernable marks that I can feel.</p>
<p>The door to my room opens slowly—gaining my complete attention—and somebody backs in with something occupying their hands. It’s Fennorian.</p>
<p>When he turns around, I see he has a mug in one hand, a large plate taking up the other. It’s piled with food. Then he sees that I’m awake.</p>
<p>“Ah, good morning. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a bit of everything the kitchen had to offer downstairs.” He comes to the side table and sets both dishes down, smiling slightly. “How did you rest?”</p>
<p>“Well—” I clear my throat of its morning croakiness. “Well, thank you.” He sits on the foot of the bed by my legs. “How about you?” I ask.</p>
<p>He chuckles, “I think I know what it means to ‘sleep like the dead’ now.”</p>
<p>I sit up and lean over to grab the plate from its spot, set it on my lap, and dig in. There’s ham, sausage, and eggs. Even a chunk of bread. <em>He seems to know what humans like.</em> I take of sip of the water from the mug, washing it all down before taking another bite.</p>
<p>“You seem hungry,” he grins.</p>
<p>“I didn’t eat much yesterday,” I observe.</p>
<p>He thinks about that for a second before replying, “Yes, I suppose you didn’t. I guess I kept you from supper while we were talking. All your meals, I surmise, since I was with you all day. And you didn’t have much for breakfast either.” I shrug. “No, it does matter,” he refutes my action. “I figured I owed <em>you</em> a meal after last night. I didn’t even think about how it might affect you on an empty stomach.”</p>
<p>“Well, this meal was a good choice,” I tell him around a bite of bread.</p>
<p>“I’m glad I did something right.” He unlaces his boots and kicks them off, wriggling back on the bed until he’s sitting up against the pillow next to me—not even bothering to get up and walk around the bed. I laugh a bit at this. “So, what are your plans for the day?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Not sure. Maybe go out to the stables, fetch my horse, and ride around the town’s perimeter? I was so intent on getting into Solitude that I really didn’t check out much of the surrounding area. First trip to Western Skyrim and all—I think I should do the tourist thing.”</p>
<p>“Since you grew up in the Rift, you must have at least an inkling of an idea of what it’s like—there and Eastmarch. It’s not that different from what I’ve heard.”</p>
<p>I take a few more bites, swallowing them down before setting the plate off to the side, taking another drink of water, and finally replying. “Yeah, from what I saw, it doesn’t look that different, I suppose. I came in from the Craglorn area, so my memory of home isn’t as strong as it used to be. I try to stay away from the Rift and Eastmarch best I can. No need to bring myself down.” He nods in understanding.</p>
<p>“So, time to take up a tourist’s duties?” he asks, wanting to change the subject—and I find myself happy that he seems to know to do that. Dwelling on the topic of home for too long was bound to sour my mood quickly.</p>
<p>“I suppose it’s the right thing to do.” I look at him. “What about you?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t made my mind up on that one yet. I may go fill my flask like I was wanting to last night. But I think I can afford to hold off for a few more days now, so I don’t know.”</p>
<p>In earnest, I convey, “You’re welcome to join me. If you like.”</p>
<p>He grins. “I think I might take you up on that, Ivan. I <em>would</em> like that.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>When we got to the stables right outside the gates of Solitude, where I left my stallion, Raido, we checked to see if Fenn could rent a horse of his own for the day. Although the stablemaster would have allowed it, the horses didn’t seem too pleased to be around a vampire, nonetheless be ridden by one. After some convincing on my steed’s part, we decided my mount was large enough to carry us both, so he hopped on behind me and we took off to explore the terrain encircling the famous city.</p>
<p>The next few days went by in a similar fashion. He stayed with me in my room at night, fetching me breakfast in the morning before I even had the opportunity to wake up. We moseyed around the marketplace—even making the magus to see reason on his pricing with a few empty soul gems. We spent time in the tavern, laughing and talking about various things. He did leave for a few hours to “fill his flask,” which I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the process of. As long as he was being humane—and I’m sure he was—it didn’t matter that his diet was different than my own.</p>
<p>In the first week after meeting Fenn, we spent so much time together, I felt as if I’d always known him. I knew things about him only people close to someone should know, and same with him. I was comfortable enough to tell him some parts of me that not just anybody could be trusted with—including my odd situation of not being enticed by anyone but still being a hopeless romantic, and even my history with Ben, the one night I shared with Naryu.</p>
<p>Fennorian was just easy to be with. And he wasn’t bad on the eyes either. He made my stomach do little flips, especially anytime he’d say or do something a little tender and unexpected. <em>Am I attracted to him?</em> I thought to myself. I was unsure for a while, as I’d never felt anything even remotely like it. I was confused up until the moment he kissed me.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I’m thinking about heading home,” I tell Fenn as I set down my empty tankard.</p>
<p>We’re sitting in a dark corner of The Lonely Troll, away from people’s prying eyes, them all wondering why a human and a vampire are having such a normal conversation—why I’m not running and screaming, trying to call the guards over.</p>
<p>“Do you think you’re ready?” He looks a bit concerned.</p>
<p>“I need to be—I know I can’t keep running. I have to land back where my roots were grown eventually. Might as well be now.” With this, I talk myself into it.</p>
<p>I go to the man behind the bar, who is also the innkeep, and inform him that I’ll be leaving sooner than I originally planned. He refunds me the coin I’d spent to rent my room for the extra week I was expecting to be here. But I might as well face going home now, while I feel I can—before I clam up again and refuse to make that difficult trek back.</p>
<p>When I make ready to climb the stairs to go pack, Fenn meets me at the foot of them. “I’ll help you.” I thank him, despite having few things with me, and we ascend.</p>
<p>“I’m going to miss you, Ivan,” he tells me as he closes the door behind us. “Didn’t think I could become so attached to someone so quickly. You’ve become like family to me.” He leans against the door, watching me throw some tunics and chemises into my pack that’s laying on the bed.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t have thought it possible either,” I agree. “But here we are, huh?” I pause for a moment, looking at him—he’s smiling sadly.</p>
<p>“I’d tell you not to go—that you should stay here—but I won’t. You need to go, since you feel you’re ready. It could be now or never, and I don’t want to be the one standing in your way. You need this to help you heal, I think.”</p>
<p>With a nod, I agree, continuing to stuff trousers and pairs of smalls into the pack, it now becoming cramped, signaling my packing is almost to a close.</p>
<p>Fennorian slinks away from the door and comes towards me, handing me one of the remaining articles of clothing from the dresser off to the side. His face looks dejected, like something is truly bothering him—like he’s thinking about something with all his might—as he hands me another piece of clothing. Before I can get it in my bag, however, he comes closer, seeming to make the decision he was debating, and wraps his arm around my waist, the other gripping the bedpost, and brings me into a sudden and fervent kiss.</p>
<p>I’m shocked to say the least. But I return it—just as enthusiastically, just as passionately—as I drop the forgotten piece of clothing onto the floor and wind my arms around his neck. He takes his hand off the bed and plants it on my hip, deepening the kiss even more.</p>
<p>In the back of my mind, I notice his fangs—small, almost nonexistent while not feeding—but I don’t mind them. I almost find myself liking them.</p>
<p>After a while, I break away, and find his breathing is as ragged as my own. He presses his forehead against mine, our arms still enveloping each other. “I think that’s a proper goodbye,” he breathes.</p>
<p>I pull away, enough for him to look me in the eyes. “Come with me,” I whisper.</p>
<p>He smiles, seeming to like the idea instantly. “Okay.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>As we cross the border into the Rift, Fenn wakes up, like he knows we’re nearing Autumn’s-Gate.</p>
<p>He’s been asleep behind me on the Raido, leaning against my back, his head between my shoulder blades and his arms draped around my waist lightly—the grip of them gone in his unconsciousness—for the past couple hours. He told me he didn’t sleep too well at the inn we stayed in last night, yet he insisted on leading the reins for the first three hours this morning. I protested, seeing the dark circles under his eyes were even darker than normal, but he planted himself where he was until I resigned the argument.</p>
<p>“We’re nearly there,” I tell him. Taking one hand off the reins and pointing to the mountains to our left, I continue, “Up there is High Hrothgar, built in the last era.” I feel Fenn’s head part from my back and look to where I’m pointing. “The Greybeards live up there, from what I’ve been told, and they specialize in the Way of the Voice, or Thu’um. Kyne gave us the ability to use it, as men. It was exclusively part of the dragons’ language before that.”</p>
<p>“You have to climb The Seven Thousand Steps to get up there, right?” I hear him ask, his voice groggy from sleep.</p>
<p>“Yes. It’s difficult, I hear—a very long, very steep journey. And always cold, since it’s so high up the mountain, there’s snow year-round.”</p>
<p>“Well, it is on the tallest mountain in Tamriel.”</p>
<p>Smiling, I verify, “It sure is. Seems you know a bit about it yourself.”</p>
<p>I feel him shrug. “A little. Verandis’s library holds many volumes—and one can get bored when staying at home for extended periods of time.”</p>
<p>We continue along our path, crossing into Ivarstead and on into the frontier adjacent to Nimalten. This is when I see it more clearly: Autumn’s-Gate.</p>
<p>The house stands as proud as the day I left it for High Rock. The roof seems to be in good condition still, the walls as erect as they should be. The windows haven’t been busted out and the stones of the wall encircling the courtyard are as strong as ever. It looks like home.</p>
<p>Fenn can feel a change in my demeanor and guesses where we are. He rubs my back gently in comfort. “Is this it?” he asks quietly, to which I just nod.</p>
<p>We ride up to the gate and I already know it’s locked. When Mother left for Eastmarch, she wouldn’t’ve left her home open to any and all that decided it was a nice place to bunk down—or to raid. Leaving Fenn on the horse, I climb off and reach my hand into a fallen log, the interior of it a nice hiding place for a spare key. I’m happy when my fist closes around a metal object.</p>
<p>Pulling out the key and inserting it into the lock, I’m pleased when I hear the distinctive <em>click.</em> My mouth curls into a grin. I look to Fenn, who is smiling himself, as I take the reins and lead him into the courtyard of my childhood.</p>
<p>Parking Raido in the stable of old, Fenn climbs off and unfastens our bags from behind the saddle—the steed pawing at the ground, getting used to his new surroundings.</p>
<p>Glancing around the courtyard, I take it all in. The two sets of Argonian chimes blowing in the slight breeze. The stools seated around the patio table, the two braziers around them unlit—the cooking fire just beyond this. The laundry-line hanging from one of the house’s supports to a nearby pole. It’s all the same—nothing has changed. Not even the pumpkins and wheat Mother preserved and has set on the step of the house next to a scythe. It’s all here, untouched by time.</p>
<p>“I love it,” I hear behind me, and I turn to see Fenn taking in the outer portion of my childhood home. “I can see you growing up here. I can see this being Kaia’s house.” He looks to me. “Ready to go in?”</p>
<p>I grab a couple bags from his grasp and nod. “Let’s.”</p>
<p>With the gate to the courtyard locked, I figure the door to the house itself would be unlocked, and when I turn the knob, I’m right. The door swings back and the first swath of light in years is allowed into the house.</p>
<p>I step inside, setting my two bags on the floor.</p>
<p>The hearth lays cold with no fire to liven it up. The kitchen is barren of all food. The plates are tucked away on the cabinet shelf beneath the keg Mother would keep full of mead. The wicks of the candles sprinkled throughout the house are all devoid of light. The fur lining the top of the partition separating the bedroom from the main room has a thin blanket of dust on it.</p>
<p>The house looks so unwelcoming. Yet, I feel more whole than I have in a while, being here in this house.</p>
<p>I hear Fenn set his bag down on the floor next to mine and step up behind me, laying his hands on my shoulders. I lean my head back and rest it against him. “Doing alright?” he questions.</p>
<p>“Yes,” I say with conviction. “Better than I have been in some time. This was the right thing to do.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Because the kitchen of Mum’s house had no food—me being glad about that, because I certainly didn’t want to clean out any rotten provisions—Fenn and I decided to make the short trek to Nimalten and eat at the tavern there inside the Riverside Inn. The food wasn’t the best, but it was a warm meal at least. We purchased a sack of oats, some fruits and vegetables, and told ourselves we’d hunt and kill our own meat in the vicinity—me for the meat, and Fenn for the blood.</p>
<p>With this, we headed back to the house.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The wood next to the fireplace has been there for years, so thankfully it’s nice and dry—it goes up in flames within seconds rather than minutes—and the house is finally starting to feel warm again.</p>
<p>Fenn places another log in with the others as I stand next to the rocking chair and pick up my lute. I’d left it sitting there, it collecting dust, ever since I left home seven years ago. Fenn notices this. “That yours?”</p>
<p>Nodding, I strum a chord. “Jorunn gave it to me when I was just a child. Around twelve-years-old, I believe. He wanted me to know how to play, too—since he had skald training as a boy himself.” I play a few more chords, testing the notes I haven’t played since I was a young lad. I finally feel confident enough that I won’t mess up—much—and dive into the beginning of a song I’ve not heard in ages.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Poor Gil-Var-Delle we still recall</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The God of Schemes consumed it all</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>To Coldharbour went our Clockwork God</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>To bargain on the Prince’s sod</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>They came to mock at Tribune small</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Schemer, Hunger, Hunter, all</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Pariah, Scryer, Destroyer came</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Raver and Twilight just the same</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>From dread Daedra save us</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>From Daedra keep us safe</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Forsake the ones that made us</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>To fight a wrongful fate</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>They sneered when Clockwork made his demand</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Till Twilight raised a hand</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘And what do you offer in return</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>To keep us from chastising Nirn?’</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>Then Clockwork whispered long and low</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And what he said, no mortal can know</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>From dread Daedra save us</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>From Daedra keep us safe</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Forsake the ones that made us</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>To fight a wrongful fate”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“I haven’t heard that tale in years,” Fenn says quietly. “You performed it well. Could have me fooled, thinking you were the one to have skald training.”</p>
<p>He stands from his kneeling position on the floor, him having stopped where he was to listen. He takes a seat on the couch and I join him, playing another tune. Putting his arm behind me on the back of the couch, he settles in for a night of relaxing, hearing live music from a lute for the first time since we’ve left Solitude. Students from the Bards College weren’t uncommon around the city, but it’s just different, not having any form of crowd composed of strangers around you.</p>
<p>After a couple hours of playing, and my hands not being used to it anymore, I set my instrument off to the side. Fenn looks over to me in curiosity—his head has been leaned against the back of the couch for some time now, almost in a slumber.</p>
<p>“My fingers,” I explain, showing him my appendages. “They’re not used to it. Think I may have overdone it a bit.” The fingers on my left hand are cracked and bleeding slightly. I failed to notice it until I looked a bit ago.</p>
<p>Fennorian looks at them seriously, his brows pulling together. “That’s not good.” He takes my hand and inspects the digits carefully. The look on his face tells me he’s considering something, but within a few moments, he wraps my hand in his two, and within a few seconds, my fingers are feeling better. He lets me go and I examine my hand. The cracks are gone.</p>
<p>“Was debating whether or not to find a potion,” he says as he surveys my hand himself, “but figured it wasn’t that serious.” <em>So, that was what he was deliberating.</em></p>
<p>Fenn and I both know my healing exceeds his own. But where my magicka and natural affinity allows me to heal even some of the toughest wounds, I acknowledge that his alchemy far surpasses mine. I’ve seen him brew potions and poisons alike that can bring a man from the brink of death—or cause him to wish it on himself from the agony of his affliction. One might consider us two sides of the same coin.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” I utter, to which he grins in response, sleep evidently in his eyes. “It’s getting pretty late, and you were ready to go to sleep—if you weren’t already. How about we get some rest?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t argue as he nods and rises from the couch, heading toward the bedroom. I set my lute in a more secure place and follow after him.</p>
<p>He’s almost to his smalls as I blow out all the remaining candles in the room, minus the one on the nightstand. Disposing of my clothes myself—our sleeping arrangements being us keeping each other warm, and not having to rely on clothing—I climb in next to him. The blankets and furs are chilly from lack of body heat, but with Fenn this close, it hardly matters.</p>
<p>He curls himself next to me, resting his head on my chest. I kiss the top of his head and we both drift into a good night’s rest.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When I wake in the morning, Fenn is already awake—and laying a good distance from me. He’s rather nonmoving for how awake he is. I look over to see his face and he looks almost… embarrassed?</p>
<p>“Morning.”</p>
<p>He smiles with thin lips. “Good morning.”</p>
<p>“Is something the matter?”</p>
<p>He chuckles a little. “Ask me again in about half an hour and I can answer ‘no’ truthfully.”</p>
<p>I look around the room and nothing seems to be out of order. “What is it, Fenn?”</p>
<p>From the look on his face, nothing isn’t <em>wrong</em> so much as just the fact that he’s <em>uncomfortable.</em></p>
<p>“I’m in a bit of a… compromising position and I don’t want to move yet.” He continues looking at me, begging me with his eyes to get his meaning. Finally it settles in and I laugh.</p>
<p>“You have a visitor this morning?” I ask to which he nods sheepishly. I chuckle again. “It happens.”</p>
<p>“Still not a good time for it.” He sighs. “I mean, I know I can’t help my dreams, but still.” His eyes go a bit wider, thinking about what he just revealed.</p>
<p>“Having sexy dreams?” I ask him, his eyes meeting my own, still large in size, knowing he’s been caught. “Was I in it?” He hesitates a moment, but nods.</p>
<p>With the simple movement of his head nodding, I find myself happy at this revelation and smile. I scoot my way closer to him, him almost looking scared at me coming toward him. “It’s okay,” I assure him quietly. “I don’t mind one bit.”</p>
<p>I breach the distance between us and connect our lips. At first, he’s tentative, but after a few seconds, he gets into it, twisting his hand into my hair and pulling me closer to him. I roll onto him, framing his head with my hands, hovering over him slightly so I don’t crush the wind from him—wind that is starting to become ragged already. I remove one hand from its post and let it trail over his exposed chest, slipping down his side, and resting on his hip.</p>
<p>             ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>             ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)</p>
<p>“Ivan, I love you.” Glancing up from gently wiping at his stomach, I look into his eyes to see that he’s continuing to look at me as if I’m a deity, something to be worshipped. It’s the first time either of us has said this to the other—even if we already knew it deep down.</p>
<p>“I love you, too, Fenn.” I finish the last stroke on him with the shirt and throw it back down on the floor, leaning forward to lovingly kiss my destiny—the only person I ever have, and ever will, feel an attraction towards.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The rest of the day went by in a much calmer fashion, but just as blissful. Fenn and I stayed in the house, finding various tasks to keep us busy. I played my lute some more, we read some of Mother’s books, he insisted on cooking lunch for me—and for a vampire who hasn’t eaten human food in years, his cooking abilities weren’t as rusty as we were thinking they’d be. Just simple, little things to keep us occupied—but we were satisfied. Just to be spending time together.</p>
<p>I also brought up a new topic.</p>
<p>I told Fenn that I wanted to share forever with him, but he said he refused to damn my soul to Coldharbour once I died—that he wouldn’t make me into a vampire. It made me think of the promise I made to Mother years ago when I was younger in this house—that I never would give up my being human, be it to vampirism or lycanthropy. She wanted me to spend the afterlife in Sovngarde, and the sanguine or beast blood would prevent that. But she’s not here now and Fenn is. Either way, since he won’t bite me at a shrine, I have to surrender my newfound dream and stay human for him. <em>Whatever makes you happy,</em> I told him.</p>
<p>The following afternoon, I proposed a new idea.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“What do you think about meeting Jorunn?” I ask Fenn as he helps me clean out the stable. It had gotten out of hand in its neglect in the last few years, and I want Raido to have a nice place to lay his head, so to say. I’m currently working on the ground, repairing a loose floorboard.</p>
<p>“King Jorunn?” He looks at me with a stunned look. “Meet the parents. Except it’s a king…”</p>
<p>“Nervous?” I chuckle. “I can tell you right now, he’s going to love you.”</p>
<p>“He’s Nord, though, right? And Nords aren’t too keen on vampires last I checked.”</p>
<p>“Nords don’t like werewolves either. Yet Mother was a werewolf and she was the love of his life. It’s actually part of what called his attention to her. Plus, Mother loved you, so she clearly didn’t care—and she was a Nord.”</p>
<p>“But when I first ever approached her, she backed away just at the sight of me. I’m guessing she never told you about that.” He seems upset about this.</p>
<p>“I’m sure it was just the initial sight of a vampire, not you personally. She was on her guard at that time. And I can’t say I blame her. It didn’t take her long to warm up to you, though,” I prompt, dipping into my memory of her stories.</p>
<p>He sighs, knowing I have him there. Relenting, he says, “No, it didn’t. Kaia trusted me more than Lyris and Svana both for a good while—she was my advocate really, until they understood I was on their side.”</p>
<p>“Exactly. And I know Father just as well as Mum.” I smile at him. “It may take a second, but he’ll warm up to you just as much as she did.” At this, Fenn takes a brush to the horse, occupying his hands in order to occupy his eyes—hiding his expression from me. “Fennorian?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You’re hiding. …Why are you so nervous about this?”</p>
<p>He brushes a few more strokes and sets the brush down, finally looking at me. “Because this is a big deal. Everything is going so fast and—” He looks back to the animal’s flank, smoothing his hair with his hand. “Not that I don’t like it, or that I don’t feel it’s right.” He leaves the horse and comes over to me, crouching down to be at my level.</p>
<p>“Remember when we were in your room in Solitude, and I said that I felt drawn to you?” I nod. “I didn’t stay in Rivenspire long because I felt a… pull… to come back to Skyrim. And when I saw you in the marketplace, telling that magus off about his soul gems, I felt an automatic relief—like the pull was a pressure, and it finally released and let go. I had to follow you into the tavern—I felt like if I didn’t, the pressure would come back, and I wouldn’t be able to shake it.” He sighs.</p>
<p>“But you have to understand my nerves about this. We’ve only known each other for two weeks. …Made love the first time yesterday morning.” He sits down cross-legged where he is and puts his hand on my forearm. “It’s not that I think it’s too soon—really. It’s that I don’t want someone so important in your life to reject me. And one of Tamriel’s three main leaders, on top of that. If Jorunn doesn’t approve of me, and you take heed to it, I don’t know what I’ll do.”</p>
<p>Although his argument makes sense, and I can see where he’s coming from, I must disagree. “No matter what he says, it won’t change my mind. My father is important to me, true. But so are you. Even if it’s only been two weeks. The draw is here for me, too—not just then, but even now. I feel like I’m where I belong, no matter where I am, as long as you’re nearby.</p>
<p>“Before, I felt I needed to go to Solitude—that I absolutely <em>had</em> to—and I spent the better part of four years with this feeling, travelling there slowly.</p>
<p>“But when you showed up in front of me, in that tavern, I didn’t have that feeling anymore. After all that, I felt like I wanted to come here, to come home, but I really didn’t <em>need</em> to. My home for our week of travel was on this this very horse, because that’s where you were. If you lived in this stable, I wouldn’t complain, I’d just move in with you.” I place my hand on top of his that’s laying on my arm. “I’m not worried about what Jorunn says—negative or positive. Because what he says won’t sway me.” I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, and he grins in response.</p>
<p>“You make your case well, Ivan. You almost have me convinced.”</p>
<p>“‘Almost?’”</p>
<p>“All I need to know now is where he’ll set us up and if it’s soundproof.”</p>
<p>I roll onto my knees and lean toward his neck. “Let them hear.” I nip at the skin beneath his earlobe with my teeth, causing him to lean his head back, chuckling at my apathy on the topic.</p>
<p>“If you insist. You’re hard to say ‘no’ to, Ivan Björkman.”</p>
<p>“Yes!” I bellow in victory. “You want to wrap up here and head there afterward?”</p>
<p>He stands and dusts off his trousers. “Why not.”</p>
<p>I finish nailing the new floorboard in and stand myself. “Just make sure you have your flask in your pocket—just in case you should need it.”</p>
<p>He gives me a disproving look. “Please, Ivan. I hardly go anywhere without it—you know that.” I playfully roll my eyes at him.</p>
<p>“Will you make sure Raido has enough water and some hay in the stable?” I ask. “While you’re doing that, I’ll go pack a few things.” And with this, I go into the house, leaving Fenn to tend to our mount.</p>
<p>After a few minutes, he comes in, done with his portion, while our bag with some clothes is sitting on the bed. “Not worried about food?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Not for this trip, no.” I grin. “It won’t take as long.”</p>
<p>“Still a few days, though. I can make it that long between feeding, but you can’t.”</p>
<p>“Won’t need to. Weren’t you wondering why I asked you to give the horse food and water? If we were riding there, that would be unnecessary, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>He nods. “Yeah, I was wondering about that actually.”</p>
<p>“You’ll see why in time. Are you ready?”</p>
<p>Fenn goes over to the dresser that his flask is on and tosses it into the bag. “Now I am.”</p>
<p>“Alright. Grab that and meet me in the courtyard.” I blow out the one lit candle in the house and walk outside.</p>
<p>I’m locking the gate as Fenn joins me with the bag slung over his shoulder. He looks at my action with confusion, making me smile. “Everything okay in the house?” He nods. “Good. Come over here and put your hand on my shoulder, but stand behind me.” He’s still confused but does as I ask. <em>I haven’t done this in so long, I hope I don’t mess it up.</em></p>
<p>Closing my eyes, I envision the correct constellation in my head, projecting it into the space in front of me. I open my eyes to see a miniature map of stars in front of my eyes. With my finger, I select the two stars that will get us to Eastmarch—Windhelm specifically. And with a quick, fresh burst of energy, Fenn and I are moved.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“What in Oblivion just happened?!” I hear behind me. I turn to see Fennorian looking around almost frantically. Realizing we’re in Kynesgrove, I’m sad to see that I couldn’t get us closer to Windhelm, but happy that we at least made it, the both of us.</p>
<p>“There’s no need to panic, dear heart,” I tell him, placing a hand on either arm. “We’re in Eastmarch and we’re safe. That’s all that matters.”</p>
<p>He looks at me with a sort of side-eye glance, not sure about it all. “How did you do that?”</p>
<p>“It was something Mother could do, too. She taught me. It’s just communing with the stars and wishing your body to go where you want it. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I could bring somebody with me—I’ve never tried before. You made it in one piece, right?” I jest. <em>He looks fine to me. Rattled but not shaken.</em></p>
<p>He blinks several times, but tries to wave it off. “How close are we? I’ve never been to Windhelm, but I’m presuming this isn’t it.”</p>
<p>“No, this is Kynesgrove. We’re not too far now.”</p>
<p>We head north, and within a few minutes, I can see the walls surrounding the city of kings. Fenn must feel my excitement, as he picks up his pace a bit, and I match it easily.</p>
<p>We come across the icy bridge leading into the city and, once stepping through, I can hear the townspeople talking with one another, making deals on goods, asking each other how the family is. The horses in the stables to the right are neighing to themselves quietly, holding their own council—the goats and chickens muttering as well.</p>
<p>Although I didn’t grow up here, it still feels like home.</p>
<p>I look to Fenn, who smiles in encouragement—seemingly already over the sudden journey—and we head toward the Palace of the Kings.</p>
<p>As Mother told me, an official with black hair, who must be Thane Mera, still stands in position in front of the palace’s gates. She’s not there to ensure the people who shouldn’t get in don’t, but instead keeps an eye on the town from a respectable place.</p>
<p>“Thane Mera Stormcloak?” I ask as I approach her.</p>
<p>“Yes? Who’s asking?”</p>
<p>“Ivan Björkman. I wish to get in and see Jorunn.”</p>
<p>“Ivan?” She looks at me with incredulous eyes. “He told me about you recently—almost like he’s been expecting you.” She looks from me to Fenn. “But he said nothing about a travelling companion.”</p>
<p>“He’s with me—he’s fine.”</p>
<p>“If you are King Jorunn’s son, as you say you are, surely you know his life was nearly taken by the Gray Host years ago. He doesn’t trust vampires easily.”</p>
<p>“I’m more than aware,” I tell her, my patience starting to grow thin. “But I said he’s with me. I need that to be enough.”</p>
<p>She sighs heavily. “Alright. Don’t make me regret it, Jorunnson. Go ahead.”</p>
<p>When we’re through the gates and out of earshot, I apologize. “I’m sorry about that, Fenn. Should have expected it.”</p>
<p>“I did,” he retorts. “It’s fine.”</p>
<p>“It is not fine. It was discriminatory.”</p>
<p>“All the same.” He grins, despite a sad look to his eyes.</p>
<p>“It’s not the Thane we’re here to see anyway,” I remind him.</p>
<p>“But I know what she said is true. The Gray Host tried to take his life before they moved on to Western Skyrim, to King Svargrim. He shouldn’t trust vampires—and I so happen to fall into that category.”</p>
<p>“He’ll warm up to you. I promise.” I take his hand as we descend deeper into the palace.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Ivan! It’s been four long years, but you’ve finally returned!”</p>
<p>We found Jorunn in his chambers, taking a midday snooze—the only person in here. He now walks toward me, his arms open wide, having yet discovered Fenn by the door.</p>
<p>“It has been too long, Father.” I envelope him as he wraps his own large arms around me.</p>
<p>“Well, step back, son. Let me look at you.” He holds me at arms’ length and looks down then up again. “Glad to see your hair’s grown back. I’d say you looked right odd with it cut short. Not bad,” he amends. “Just different.” He brings me forward again, nearly knocking the breath from me as he crushes me to him into another hug.</p>
<p>I tap his shoulder, asking for a reprieve. “Dad.” He ignores me, if not squeezes me harder. I chuckle, “Dad.” He sighs and gives up, letting me go.</p>
<p>“What is it, Ivan?”</p>
<p>“I’m happy to see you, too, but we’re ignoring the other person in the room.” This is when he looks behind me finally and sees the friendly vampire standing near the door sheepishly, grinning ever so slightly.</p>
<p>Jorunn moves back a step, his eyes apprehensive.</p>
<p>“He’s not going to hurt you,” I assure him. “He’s with me. C’mere, Fenn.”</p>
<p>Fenn looks unsure but has faith in me, as he walks over to us slowly, painstakingly trying to not frighten the big man. When he’s close, I put my arm around him, showing Father how much I trust him.</p>
<p>“Father, I want you to meet Fennorian, my helpmate.”</p>
<p>He perks up at the name—like I wondered if he would. “Fennorian? Like—”</p>
<p>“Yes, <em>that</em> Fennorian,” I cut in. “This is the same man that helped Mum before I was born.”</p>
<p>“Before she and I got serious,” Jorunn adds. “Wait. Did you say ‘helpmate?’” I nod. “Like… a partner?” I nod again, grinning at him finally connecting the dots.</p>
<p>“It’s real, Father. All the way this time.” He looks at him with something different in his eyes now. Dumbfounded astonishment is the best way I can describe it.</p>
<p>When I look over to Fenn, he looks concerned, like maybe he did something wrong and is waiting to hear about it. But his concern turns to confusion as Jorunn steps forward and wraps his arms around him—it’s his turn for a hug.</p>
<p>I laugh at the look on Fenn’s face as he all but disappears behind my father’s embrace. His eyes dart to mine, silently asking what’s going on.</p>
<p>Once Jorunn lets him go, he tells him, “Fennorian, I’m so glad to know you.” This only deepens Fenn’s confusion. He wasn’t expecting to be greeted with such joy and approval. And so soon, nonetheless.</p>
<p>“Um, if I may disrupt this exchange,” I interject, “I think Fenn is wondering why you are acting so differently than just a minute ago. If you wouldn’t mind explaining it.”</p>
<p>“Fenn,” my father tests his shortened name. “Yes, I remember your mother calling him that, now that I hear it.” He looks to the subject of whom we speak.</p>
<p>“You know about my run-in with The Gray Host?” Fenn nods, not wanting to interrupt. “So, you can see why I acted as I did when I finally noticed you in the room.</p>
<p>“But, Ivan means a lot to me, and I took his action of being near you as sign that you were alright in his book, and thus mine. Hearing your name reminded me of the tales Kaia told me of her time in Western Skyrim. We never got to meet when I made the trip there, after Svargrim’s death.</p>
<p>“But, I must say, Ivan’s helpmate? That takes a special person.” He talks about how I never found anyone alluring in my life, but discreetly. He got my subtle meaning, when I said that it was real this time, and all the way. Taking Fenn’s hand, he shakes it once hard. “I’d be happy to call you son-in-law.”</p>
<p>I lean over to Fenn. “I told you.”</p>
<p>“Told him what?” Jorunn asks.</p>
<p>“That you’d like him. He didn’t think you would.”</p>
<p>Jorunn laughs. “You should listen to him if you’re smart, Fennorian. He knows me well.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m certainly glad about that,” Fenn replies.</p>
<p>Jorunn suddenly takes us both under his arms, one on each side, and starts leading us to his door. “Come! We’ve a feast to prepare! The return of the long-lost son and his long-awaited other half!”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Jorunn had a suckling pig roasted over a spitfire, complete with an assortment of root vegetables and fresh breads. Teas and meads accompanied pastries with fruit and whipped cream.</p>
<p>He invited some of the families from the city to join us for the late supper, most getting inebriated shortly after dessert. I kept my head, though, not wanting my mind to be glazed over by the drunkenness enjoyed by most Nords. I’d had my fill of being drunk in the past anyway.</p>
<p>Jorunn apologized to Fenn for not having anything for him at the supper, to which Fenn assured him that he was fine with it—he was just happy to be there, to be with me around my father.</p>
<p>After everyone ate to their hearts’ content, they went home, leaving just Fenn and I with Father in the main hall of the palace.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“We plan on staying in town for a while,” I inform Father. “Is there someplace we can be put up?”</p>
<p>“Of course there is,” he replies, still working on a strudel. He slams some mead after it and stands. “Let me get something, then I’ll take you to your lodgings.” He walks back toward his quarters.</p>
<p>In his absence, Fenn takes my hand and starts playing with my fingers absentmindedly. I’m staring down at this when Jorunn comes back.</p>
<p>“Alright. Follow me, boys.” Fenn just intertwines our fingers as we both stand and walk after the only-to-others brooding man.</p>
<p>We leave the palace and follow him out the gates, turning left and heading toward the forge. I’m wondering if we’re headed to the Cold Moon Inn or something. But it seems we’re not, as we descend more stairs and near The Adept’s Retreat, yet take a right and go through the fence to the chicken’s pen. Once we’re through this, we take another left and stop at the door to a large building. <em>New inn?</em> I think.</p>
<p>Dad hands me a key—the object he must have gone to retrieve.</p>
<p>“I bought this for your mother, long before she agreed to come live with me, before we married. I wanted her near me, but she wanted to stay in the Rift, what with you being a young lad and all. So, it’s been sitting here, collecting dust for years. But, if I remember correctly, there are some barebones furnishings in there—just a few sticks of furniture, really—but probably enough until you decide to stay or not. I know there’s a bed at the very least.”</p>
<p>“‘Stay?’” I repeat.</p>
<p>“Yes. Well, that’s what I’m hoping,” Father continues. “Do you two have a place of your own yet?”</p>
<p>“No,” Fenn answers. “We’ve been staying in Kaia’s house for the past few days. And travelling and staying in inns before that.”</p>
<p>“Well, in that case, I hope you do like it.” Father smiles at me. “It would be so nice to have you here, where I can see you more often, Ivan.” He looks over to Fenn. “To see him finally happy, with you.”</p>
<p>My brain is still catching up with what Jorunn is telling us. I test it out.</p>
<p>“You’re… giving us this house?”</p>
<p>“I am. It’d be nice for it to be put to use, after all these years. Y’know, Grymharth’s Woe, the people call it. They say he fell from the balcony,” he points above us to a small ledge, “after he had one mug too many of mead. Do me a favour and don’t follow in his footfalls, okay?”</p>
<p>He gives me a quick hug, claps Fenn on the back, and returns the way we came.</p>
<p>My mind is still trying to process what just happened.</p>
<p>Even from the outside, the house seems quite sizable—six or seven times bigger than Mother’s. It sits not too far from where Father resides, yet is not in the very centre of town. The docks, and thus the water of the White River, are not but a small walk. Before I even look inside, I love it.</p>
<p>In my flabbergasted state, Fenn comes over to me and takes the key from my hand, doing what I can’t seem to. He smiles at me as he moves up the few steps and inserts the key into the door. The tumblers give way and release the barrier that holds me and Fenn from a place all our own.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The house was almost barren, much like Jorunn said it probably was.</p>
<p>There was a hearth to the left, signifying the kitchen area. Some firewood laid next to the fireplaces both up- and downstairs. There was a wide Redguard-style bed in the bedroom upstairs—and Fenn and I made good use of it that night before crashing, both of us tired from the festivities Father arranged when we arrived.</p>
<p>Not much else was in the house—no rugs or wall décor, no seating or tables, kitchen supplies. Nothing. It was completely up to us to furnish this house, it seemed. But we were more than happy to make it our own.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A couple months has gone by since we first arrived in Eastmarch. A little while back, by means of the stars, I travelled to Autumn’s-Gate to retrieve our horse and made my way back in the more conventional sense, on horseback.</p>
<p>Fenn was worried for me to be out in the world alone, but I assured him that I’d made it back to him in one piece—that I lived without his help for twenty-five years. What would a couple days be?</p>
<p>While I was at Mother’s house, I came across a note. It didn’t seem too old, but I missed it when Fennorian and I were there before we left for Windhelm. It must have been left before we made it to the house in the first place and I just missed it in my cluster of emotions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Kaia,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I’ve dropped by several times throughout the years, but I always seem to miss you. I guess you’re in Eastmarch with Jorunn or something. You know I’m not too keen on that idea, so I’ve never made the trip north to make sure whether that’s true or not.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>All I know is that it seems your house has been abandoned. Makes me sad to see it this way—no fire in the hearth, no music or laughter to fill the air. It’s enough to make even Merrunz sad in this state.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I hope Ivan is doing okay. Seems you’ve finally let him go. He’s, what, 24 now? I may be off a year or two. Haven’t seen him since he was 17- or 18-years-old. I bet he’s become quite the man. With the way his abilities were growing when I last trained with him, I bet he could take on a Daedric Prince and win.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I think you’d be happy to know I’m finally getting old like you. I jest, Kaia. Calm down. I have a house in Rimmen now, and I sometimes go weeks at a time without leaving the city walls. Crazy, I know. I guess we all have to settle down eventually, huh?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Maybe you’ll come back and find this note, maybe you won’t. Either way, it makes me feel better leaving it here. These walls… Although I never lived here, it still feels like home in a way. Even just having a paper in this place, talking to you through it, helps me find closure. I hope it doesn’t have to be closure—I really want to see you again. But I don’t know if it’ll ever happen or not. Maybe one day, I’ll grow a pair and come see you in Windhelm—assuming that’s where you are.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>If you find this note, Ivan, come look me up in Rimmen in Northern Elsweyr. I’d love to see you again. And, if it is you, tell your mother that I love her. And to stop being so difficult to get in touch with.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Wind guide you, and may your<br/>roads lead you to warm sands,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Vulf’dar</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I showed the note to Fenn when I returned home in Windhelm. It made us both sad to realize that Vulf never found out about Mum’s fate. I felt bad for never having told him. Sure, he was difficult to pin down, and so I really couldn’t help it, not being able to tell him. But still, I felt guilty. I still do—even as Fenn and I ride toward Rimmen.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The trip from Eastmarch to Northern Elsweyr was so much longer than I originally thought it would be!</p>
<p>At first, I thought, <em>Oh, it won’t be that bad. We’re just going through Eastmarch, the Rift, and Cyrodiil. It’s not that bad.</em> I was wrong.</p>
<p>Sure, we only had Eastmarch, the Rift, and Cyrodiil to go through—the first two being home territories. Not bad at all. But I failed to take into account how rough Cyrodiil would be.</p>
<p>With the Three Banners War happening, we were constantly having to watch our backs. And with Fenn finally having his own horse—he deftly naming her Gebo when I bought her for him—we got split up a few times, which was a grueling thing for us both. We had the Covenant, Dominion, and Pact all breathing down our necks, seemingly at every turn.</p>
<p>But we finally made it to Rimmen—a little battered and exhausted, but we made it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I <em>never</em> want to be in Cyrodiil again,” Fenn announces. We’ve talked about it all the way from the border of Northern Elsweyr, but it’s hard to shake the last encounter we had.</p>
<p>A young Covenant soldier had him pinned down against a rock and was about to stick a dagger through his eye. Thankfully, I found him in time. Pulling my best “Breton accent,” I told the soldier that High King Emeric ordered my squadron to gather all enemy mages and take them to camp as war prisoners. I don’t know why, but he believed me. As he turned to leave, I shot an arrow through his head, just to be safe. Fenn was shaking as a result of his life nearly being taken as I gathered Gebo and we made for the border in double time.</p>
<p>“We’ll never have to go through there again, love,” I vow. “We’ll find another way home.”</p>
<p>He heaves a sigh, seeming to let it go finally.</p>
<p>On our way into Rimmen, we settle our horses in the stable and walk into the city, getting our first full view of one of the Khajiiti capitals.</p>
<p>We’ve seen a bit of the cat-people’s architecture while coming into the zone, but not this much all at once.</p>
<p>There are carts and caravans surrounding the wayshrine, offering passage to other places in the land. A seemingly never-ending water feature snakes throughout the entire city—from what I can tell. The buildings have sharp edges to them, their roofs curved and pointed at the sky, different than that of the Khajiit look I’m used to seeing in other parts of Tamriel. It’s fantastic—I can see Vulf making a home for himself here.</p>
<p>Fenn and I make our way toward what seems to be a marketplace. The stalls are sparse and the merchants aren’t all Khajiit—like I was at least half expecting. I decide to ignore my curiosity on the place and do what I’ve come for. I walk up to a Redguard man running a shop meant for those who have achieved much.</p>
<p>“Excuse me.” The merchant I’m speaking to looks at me.</p>
<p>“Looking for something special for you house, young man?” He seems friendly, if a bit tired.</p>
<p>“No, thank you. Actually, I’m wondering if you can tell me if you know a man by the name of ‘Vulf,’ or ‘Vulf’dar?’”</p>
<p>The man’s brows crumple in concentration. “Name sounds familiar. But I can’t think of who it is. What’s he look like?”</p>
<p>“Redguard man in his mid to late forties. Skin colour about the same as yours. Long, black hair. At least… I still think it’s long. I haven’t seen him in a while, but he’s never had it short, from what I remember.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that sounds about right.” The man brings his finger up to point to his left. “Hall of the Lunar Champion. He bought some furnishings from me a year back or so—he’d just moved in at that point. Us residents of Rimmen sure are glad to have him here with us.</p>
<p>“Just head up those stairs there, and there will be a courtyard to the left. It’s the only house there.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” I tell the man as Fenn and I head where he pointed.</p>
<p><em>Up the steps, into a courtyard, and it’s the only house. Up the steps, into a courtyard, and it’s the only house,</em> I repeat to not forget. We step into the courtyard, but there’s no house—only a Khajiiti temple. <em>Did he give us bad directions?</em></p>
<p>I resolve to try my luck anyway, Fenn just shadowing me at this point. Walking up to the door made of stone, I go to knock, but decide I’d rather keep my hand in one piece. I push on it instead, and it gives way.</p>
<p>“Ivan, what if we shouldn’t be in here?” Fenn asks me.</p>
<p>“Then we’ll leave. If you want to bust your hand knocking on that door, I’ll heal it, but I’d rather avoid that altogether.” He goes silent as we walk in.</p>
<p>Inside, there’s one big room. From three tablets laying on different altars, there’s three beams of light that shine to the three opposite walls—each producing a portal. I go for the one on the left.</p>
<p>Stepping through the portal—Fenn following me reluctantly—we come into an outdoor area. There’s a small house built in the Khajiit style I’m familiar with, led up to by a path, a patio just outside its door. Since the house is built on stilts, there is room for things underneath, and it seems to be occupied by a small garden. And the garden is being tended to by a man with black tresses.</p>
<p>“Vulf?” I call, causing the man to turn.</p>
<p>When he sees me, he smiles so big—so lively, showing all his teeth—I’m stunned. It’s a sight I’ve never seen before. Sure, I’ve seen him happy, but this is next-level happiness.</p>
<p>“Ivan!” He stands from his kneeling position and runs to me, wrapping me in an embrace—a hold so tight, it would be fit to squeeze Masser and Secunda together.</p>
<p>He lets go of me, chuckling a little bit. “Sorry, I’ve got dirt all on me. I just wasn’t thinking.”</p>
<p>“We’ve been on the road a while. I’d wager I’m dirtier than you.” I bring him back into a hug and he gladly accepts.</p>
<p>“It’s been so long…” he mutters.</p>
<p>I laugh, “It has been. You’re starting to get a monastery look, Vulf.”</p>
<p>He laughs himself at my comment, and after a moment, I practically feel his eyes shift to Fenn behind me.</p>
<p>Vulf lets me go, however hesitantly, and asks, “Who’s this?” Fenn stays quiet, allowing me to explain to my other paternal figure.</p>
<p>“Vulf, this is Fennorian.” I take a step back from my childhood sparing partner and grab Fenn’s hand, pulling him to be closer to us. “He’s my helpmate.” I decide the word that helped Jorunn understand so well who he is to me explain to Vulf also.</p>
<p>“‘Helpmate,’” Vulf repeats. “So, he’s your husband?”</p>
<p>“Not yet,” Fenn speaks up. “Maybe someday.” He smiles at me as I raise my eyebrows in surprise. <em>We haven’t discussed that at all.</em></p>
<p>“Well, husband or no at the moment, it seems it’s bound to happen in the future—one way or another. Welcome to the unorthodox family…?” He looks like he’s trying to remember his name and can’t.</p>
<p>“Fennorian,” my Altmer replies. “Or Fenn for short.”</p>
<p>“Fenn, Fenn,” Vulf repeats, committing it to memory. “Well, are you two hungry? You said you were on the road for a while.” He realizes what he asked doesn’t apply to Fenn. “Sorry, man. I forget. I’ve got a neck if you need it,” he half jokes.</p>
<p>“No, that won’t be necessary. Ivan takes good care of me.” His eyes slide over to mine, a cheeky look to them.</p>
<p>Vulf looks a little startled at that, but ultimately says, “Hey, I’m not judging. Whatever you two get up to, that’s your thing. Just don’t kill him and we’ll be alright.” <em>Vulf, always with the jokes and lightheartedness,</em> I think. He turns to me. “What about it? Ivan, you hungry?”</p>
<p>“I could eat,” I relinquish.</p>
<p>“Great. I just made some fried grubs and grilled cactus.” He looks to my face, only to see a smooth exterior. <em>Please be clowning again.</em></p>
<p>“I’m joking! What, you think I eat like a heathen just because I live in the ass-end of a desert? Nah, I got some chicken soup. C’mon.” He wraps his hand around the base of my neck and brings me with him up the stairs and into the house, Fenn smiling and trailing behind us.</p>
<hr/>
<p>During dinner, we talked about small things like the weather in Eastmarch and how I seemed to be better suited for snow than Mother ever was. But after we ate, the three of us took a few hits from Vulf’s skooma bubbler, and our conversation started to get into deeper territory.</p>
<p>I purposely didn’t talk about where Mum was, and thank the gods, Vulf never asked. With the skooma, I knew I was bound to become a blubbering mess about it. In lieu of this, we talked about how Fenn was in Western Skyrim with Mother during the siege of The Gray Host, how I met Fenn in Solitude, and how we live in Windhelm now. Vulf seemed to actively be avoiding talking about Mum at that point—and I found myself indebted to him.</p>
<p>We also discussed how he got the house he currently lives in. He came back to Elsweyr after travelling almost his whole adult life, to find that an Imperial by the name of Euraxia Tharn had usurped the throne. She had his clan all but wiped out. In a blind rage, he went off and killed anyone who had anything to do with the genocide. And Euraxia obviously was next. He joined forces with Abnur Tharn; Speaker of the Mane, Gharesh-ri; and a Khajiit agent of the Speaker named Khamira in order to take the “queen” down. It turned out Khamira was a princess and was next in line to take the throne. Vulf gladly helped make this happen, and as a reward to all his work and dedication to the Khajiit people, Khamira gifted him the Hall of the Lunar Champion.</p>
<p>After talking for a few hours, Fenn and I asked where we would be staying. Vulf walked us outside.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“So, you’re gonna be here,” Vulf leads us to a Khajiiti mercantile tent not too far from his garden. “I never have visitors, so I don’t have much in the way of extra rooms or beds. This serves me as storage most of the time, so you’ll have to excuse the lack of space. But it’s really the only place I can put you for the night.”</p>
<p>“It’s alright,” I tell him. “We have bedrolls from travelling here anyway, so we’ll make do. At least it’s not raining.” I look up to see a nighttime sky full of stars.</p>
<p>“It rarely rains here, Ivan—it’s Elsweyr.” He rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, you two.” He heads back up the stairs and into his house.</p>
<p>Stepping into the tent, I see there’s enough room for us to lay both our bedrolls together if we stack a few crates on top of each other. Doing this, there’s plenty of room on the floor.</p>
<p>As we fetch our packs and start laying out our bedding, Fenn says, “Vulf seems nice.”</p>
<p>“Now—sure. He was alright to me growing up, but from what Mum told me, he was a selfish person when he was younger.”</p>
<p>“Well, I suppose he grew up, too. Like his note said, everyone has to settle down sooner or later.”</p>
<p>“True.”</p>
<p>We dress down to a pair of braies each and bunk down for the night. Although we normally wear less while at home, we didn’t feel too enthusiastic to potentially being murdered in our smalls, so we took a new approach to our nightclothes.</p>
<p>When we get tucked in, Fenn lays his head on my shoulder. “Was it just his upbringing that made him have wanderlust?”</p>
<p>“Maybe that’s a part of it, but I feel it has more to do with what happened after he left home—why he always had itchy feet.” I settle in to tell a part’s of Vulf’s life story.</p>
<p>“A few years after he met Mum, he disappeared. At that point, they were already a travelling band, and they rarely split up, so it was weird. Mum got nervous and started looking for him. After a while of following leads—both good and bad—she found him in a cave in Bangkorai, his mind gone from him.</p>
<p>“Turns out, Mephala tampered with his soul—used him as her own plaything. She’d completely ravaged him. But what else can be expected from the Daedric Prince of lies, sex, murders, and secrets?</p>
<p>“He always said he figured she was able to nab him because he made himself a home in one of her abandoned shrines. He didn’t think it was because of <em>where</em> he chose to make his home, but that he stayed there <em>too long</em>. He always moved around and travelled after that.”</p>
<p>Fenn shifts his head a little. “He lost his mind? What do you mean? How did he get it back?”</p>
<p>“When Mother found him, he was practically a zombie—he had no mind for himself. He could understand her, and followed simple orders. But he couldn’t speak or communicate at all, other than a few times when he nodded at her—but those ended up being flukes.</p>
<p>“It was hard on her. He was a good friend, only if even for a few years at the time. She found it hard to communicate with him, but she kept trying. And eventually, she started noticing patterns. He would act certain ways when she was showing certain emotions.</p>
<p>“He followed her around—day and night—making low grumbling sounds when she was upset, and just stared at her when she was happy. She knew he was still in there.</p>
<p>“She took him to another cave—they didn’t have a home at the time, since they were barely more than teenagers—and continued talking with him, telling him stories about them from the past. They made a little home of that cave until he started showing signs of improvement. And he did.</p>
<p>“He started trying to talk again. She hadn’t changed her name at this time, so she was still ViLettie. He always called her Vi anyway, so that was an easy beginning for him—but, hey, at least there <em>was</em> a beginning.</p>
<p>“His improvements stopped, though. She didn’t know what to do. She heard about the Warrior-Poet in Vvardenfell, and him being one of the only living gods she could think of, she decided to board a ship and sail for the island with Vulf in tow.</p>
<p>“She learned more about the Tribunal as they made the long journey. She found out that Mephala was the Anticipation of Vivec—it all was working out in their favour.</p>
<p>“Upon reaching the island, she hauled him to the member of the Tribunal, asking for help. Vivec told her that he could undo the damage Mephala did if Vulf swore his soul to him after he died.</p>
<p>“Mother didn’t want to make that decision for him, but as his mind was less than his own, she had to—she just wanted him back. She sealed the deal and Vulf returned that night.”</p>
<p>Fenn looks up at me from his perch on my shoulder. “Was he okay with it—that she made that agreement for him?”</p>
<p>“Ultimately,” I tell him, shrugging the shoulder he’s not occupying. “He’s been trying ever since to find a way out of that contract—you should know him well enough by now, it shouldn’t be a surprise. He’s been operating with the Psijic Order ever since to try and work it off, as if it were a debt he could repay.” I shake my head against the pillow. “Fool’s errand, if you ask me. But he won’t stop at anything.”</p>
<p>After a few minutes of silence, and my mind wandering, I can feel Fenn relaxing more, his hand on my stomach slipping a little. But I have to know.</p>
<p>“Fenn?”</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“What did you mean earlier when you said ‘not yet’ to Vulf? About being my husband?”</p>
<p>Fenn lifts his head, looking at my chin. “That maybe someday, it’d be something we’d get around to.” His gaze floats to my eyes. “Does that idea frighten you?”</p>
<p>I wait a moment before answering. “No. Not in the slightest. …I really like it, actually.”</p>
<p>“You do?” I nod. “Well, then.” He leans up onto his elbow, looking me full on in the face. “I know I don’t have an amulet or pledge of Mara, but we can go through formalities later if you want.</p>
<p>“Ivan Björkman, will you marry me?”</p>
<p>I can’t help the smile that spreads itself across my lips. “Yes. Fenn, I’d love to marry you.”</p>
<p>He smiles at this, too, and reaches forward to kiss me.</p>
<p>“Plus,” I add, “it’ll be so much easier to just call you my fiancé now.” He chuckles and continues kissing me.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Did you sleep well?” I ask Vulf as he prepares himself and me some breakfast. He doesn’t even bother asking about Fenn—he got some nutrients last night anyway.</p>
<p>“So-so.” He flips a piece of duneripper in the pan—his weird version of ham. “Took me a while to fall asleep. I kept thinking about your mother.” He keeps his eyes on his food prep and away from my face. It’s almost like he knows the topic is near-taboo. But Fenn and I came here for a reason, so I nudge him with my words.</p>
<p>“Anything in particular?”</p>
<p>Vulf looks up from his frying pan, glancing around the room, still not meeting my eyes. “I wish I could see her again. But I feel like if I were to find her—in Windhelm, or wherever she is—I wouldn’t be welcome.”</p>
<p>He looks at me finally. “I tried I don’t know how many times to stop by her house. And I guess this is after you left home, because you weren’t there either, but she was always gone.” He scoots the meat around with a long fire-poker-like utensil. “I guess she meant it when she said she chose Jorunn over me.”</p>
<p>I sigh, not ready to delve into my potential despair, but he deserves to know.</p>
<p>“Well, this is going to be a long tale, but it’ll explain everything. I’ll try to keep the less important details at a minimum.” He looks at me patiently, waiting for me to continue. “You may want to halt your cooking—it may burn otherwise.” His brows crease in confusion, but he does as I suggest, moving the pan off the fire.</p>
<p>“I left home when I was eighteen. I was ready to see the world, and at that point, Mum really couldn’t say much to keep me there. I wanted to find out more about my family—my birth family. I knew my birth mother was dead, but I wanted to see about my father. Being half Breton, I headed toward High Rock—Daggerfall, specifically—in hopes of finding information about him.</p>
<p>“With my affinity to magicka, I thought maybe his was strong, too, and that maybe he was in the Mages Guild—so I checked there first. Nobody there knew of a Breton man who had relations with a Nord woman. Except a stable hand who overheard me asking about him.</p>
<p>“After I’d left the Mages Guild, the stable hand came up to me, claiming he knew who I was talking about. He told me he moved from Glenumbra a few years prior and moved to Rivenspire—that he bought the apothecary there and made a living as an alchemist.</p>
<p>“With no other leads, I followed what the man told me. I went to the alchemist’s in Shornhelm and ended up finding my father. I couldn’t have been sure it was him, but he claimed I looked a lot like my mother—my Nord mother. I was sure it was him.</p>
<p>“I stayed with him for a little while, telling him about Mother and Jorunn, how they raised me. That I was doing fine in life. I thanked him for his magical abilities having been bestowed upon me. He told me some of his and my mother’s histories—that they were practically star-crossed lovers and couldn’t stay together. She went back to Skyrim and he stayed in High Rock. He never found out she got killed. I hated being the bearer of that bit of bad news, but he assured me it was how life went.</p>
<p>“He showed me that he used to hunt when he was my age, but since getting into business, he didn’t need his bow anymore. He gave me his bow and told me that restoration staves didn’t always defend like I thought—he knew from experience. So, concerning that, I started training with bow and arrow, too, and that’s why I carry both bow and staff with me.</p>
<p>“I went back to Daggerfall, wanting to thank the stable hand about his lead. He told me his name was Ben, and that I could thank him with a drink. That led to other thanks.</p>
<p>“Now, you know me, I didn’t particularly enjoy his ‘company,’ but felt indebted to him. I just didn’t tell him ‘no.’ Not saying ‘no’ led to three years of not telling him ‘no.’ We had a small room in the inn there, and everything was going alright. I was just glad to not be alone in the world. I didn’t realize he was abusive to me—mentally and emotionally.</p>
<p>“Before I went back, however, I went back home to Windhelm. And Mother was there. Shortly after I left, Jorunn went to the house and took her back, asking her for the millionth time to marry him, and she finally agreed. So, they were living in the Palace of the Kings when I visited, as King and Queen of Eastern Skyrim.</p>
<p>“I told them that I found a partner in Daggerfall. Mum seemed scared but still told me she was happy for me. I should’ve taken her fear to heart. She’s the one that gave me the room actually. You remember the room she had in the Rosy Lion Inn?” Vulf nods, still not wanting to interrupt. “That was the one. We stayed there. Until I got an unexpected visitor one night.</p>
<p>“Naryu Varian of the Morag Tong dropped in late at night while Ben was away in Stormhaven for a stable show. Or at least that’s what he said. He said he was going to be gone for a couple weeks, so I didn’t worry about him dropping in with Naryu there—he was the very jealous type.</p>
<p>“Naryu informed me that Ben was a very active Daedra worshipper—that he sacrificed people after making them his lovers for a time. I couldn’t believe it when she told me he did this. She said that most of the time, his lovers would disappear after only a few days, weeks, or in the rarer cases, months. I was with him for three years at that point. Naryu said he must have been preparing me for something more unique.</p>
<p>“She said I needed to leave the city—immediately. But I waited of course. That was my home for some time. I still needed to pack and everything. I asked her if she could cut my hair—short, like Imperials like it. She grieved the loss of my length, but did as I asked. She departed after that.</p>
<p>“Turns out, Ben wasn’t in Stormhaven after all. He was in town, doing exactly what Naryu said—he was preparing an alter to his master. I still don’t even know who it was, but it doesn’t really matter. And that’s how he knew where my father was—all that information about him. His master told him all that to relay to me. He figured I would come back to find out how he knew or something, and his whole plan was to rope me in, so I could be the perfect target.</p>
<p>“So, there I was, still in the room. He came back after Naryu had gone, and he had a dagger with him. Except I didn’t know that. I think he wanted to use it to get me out of the room, to follow him to whatever location he had set up. But I changed his plans somehow. He became angry—and get this, partly because I’d cut my hair. It was one of his favourite parts about me—how long I kept my hair, how I’ve always had it braided. He flew off the handle, ruined his own plan, stabbing me right then and there, right in the gut.</p>
<p>“The initial wound wasn’t so bad. The dagger was small and very sharp, so it could’ve been worse, had it been long and dull. But the worst part was that he had it covered in some sort of Daedric poison. It burned so much. I struggled to stay conscious as I nearly fell to the floor, Ben being cocky enough to look away, explaining his whole plan as he paced the room.</p>
<p>“It took every fiber of my being, but I took the blade out and went behind him, slicing his throat with the blade. With the blood bubbling from the cut, he looked at me in disbelief, trying to say something. I was tired of it, of him. I took the dagger and jammed it into the side of his neck, killing him instantly.</p>
<p>“I was about to pass out from the poison and the blood loss, but I had to do something. I took the last of my energy and travelled home. I didn’t know the location of Windhelm in the stars enough to go directly where Mother and Father were. But I just wanted to be somewhere familiar. I wanted to be home.</p>
<p>“After I got there, landing right in the courtyard, I succumbed and passed out. I thought it would be the end of me, but Mother could tell something was wrong. Her maternal instincts were going crazy up in Eastmarch. She travelled by way of the stars back home, too, and found me lying in the dirt. She took us both back to the palace where she and Jorunn got the best mages and healers they could find to help me. But it was too late, and Mother knew it. She—”</p>
<p>My breath hitches and Fenn wraps an arm around my shoulders in encouragement, patting my knee with his other hand. <em>You’re almost done,</em> I tell myself. <em>Just finish the story.</em></p>
<p>“She knew it was too late for me. But she didn’t want me to die. I was only twenty-one at the time, still young.</p>
<p>“She used her Oblivion magic to go into the Coloured Rooms, Meridia’s realm. And she made a deal with her. If Meridia would heal me, utterly and completely, Mother would stay with Meridia in her realm until she saw fit. Meridia agreed, telling Mother that the contract would end when I died.</p>
<p>“But it went deeper than even that. Darien, a young man that helped Mum defeat Molag Bal, was in her realm also. Mother told Meridia that if she released Darien back into Nirn, she would stay there with her until all people on Nirn had died, not just me. She even offered to give up her ability to see what was happening on Nirn. Meridia agreed.</p>
<p>“With this news, Mum gathered Darien and told him about her deal. Of course, Darien didn’t like it, but he agreed to find me and give me the message Mum wanted me to have. She wanted me to remember that she always loved me, that she made the deal with no regrets <em>for</em> me, and to stop being so angry and trying to find a way to bust her out. She could ride through her own deal with gritted teeth until the very end.</p>
<p>“Darien found me in Summerset—helped me defeat Nocturnal’s plan for Nirn’s domination. But that’s another story for another day.</p>
<p>“He told me Mum’s message. Of course I was still angry—at the situation, at Meridia… at Mother. I never got to tell her goodbye, because by the time I woke up, feeling just fine thanks to the deal, Mother was already gone, sealed away in the Coloured Rooms, set to return far, far into the future, long after I’d be gone. I’m still angry at it all, if I allow myself to be completely honest.”</p>
<p>I stop myself. I’ve told the story. If I continue, it’ll just be me rambling—ranting, really—and I need to allow Vulf time to absorb all this. I’ve been talking for a good while now. My throat is dry, and I want to quench it with some water, but I elect to ignore it instead.</p>
<p>I finally look up, having been staring at the floor for the last several minutes. Vulf is quiet as I gaze upon him.</p>
<p>Distraught. Although the word makes sense on the surface level, it goes much deeper than that. He’s sitting there across from me, his cooking completely gone from his mind.</p>
<p>Blank. The look on his face echoes that of a parent or spouse when learning their loved one has been killed in a war.</p>
<p>Regret. Grief. Torment. All these words can be used to describe the look—the aura—Vulf gives.</p>
<p>And I witness something I’ve never seen before. Vulf starts crying. Not a loud bawling or even a sniveling weeping. Tears just silently stream from his eyes as he ignores them, much like I am the tightness in my throat.</p>
<p>“Damn you, Kaia,” he whispers to the floor.</p>
<p>I glance at Fenn, who looks like he’s on the verge of crying himself, and get up, walking over to my father of sorts. He looks at me as I kneel down in front of him.</p>
<p>Without saying a word, I bring him into my arms, into a grasp strong enough to forge steel.</p>
<p>With this, his walls crumble.</p>
<hr/>
<p>We didn’t leave the house for the rest of the day. We spent most of in silent lamenting.</p>
<p>Fenn hadn’t seen her in decades anyway, and I’ve had years to come to terms with it. Vulf, on the other hand, was given this information quickly and without warning. Last he knew, Mother was spending time in Eastmarch with Jorunn and all but ignoring his existence. The reality of it was much harder for him to accept. I think he would rather it be that she was ignoring him instead of the fact he’d never get to see her again.</p>
<p>When it came time for bed again, we departed with a bigger hug than was normal.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When I feel the air around me just starting to change shades, I wake up. I’m coiled against Fenn’s side, his arms secure around me.</p>
<p>Last night was rough. I kept dreaming about losing Mother and the events leading up to it. I kept Fenn awake for a good while until I tired myself out finally, his embrace helping to relax me some, but not as much as usual—or was needed.</p>
<p>
  <em>Wonder how Vulf slept…</em>
</p>
<p>I disentangle myself from Fenn’s arms and get up. He opens his eyes and looks up at me. I whisper, “It’s early. You should go back to sleep.” He looks worried, so I tell him, “I’m getting up—I’m fine. Get some more rest.” He looks like he’s about to argue, but his eyes slip shut again and he falls back to sleep.</p>
<p>I leave the tent and stretch my back. The sun is just starting to peek over the mountains in the distance. Another day has arrived.</p>
<p>Up on the house’s patio, I see Vulf sitting in an armchair he brought out from the interior. He’s watching the sun coming up over the horizon, too.</p>
<p>“You’re up early,” I tell him as I ascend the stairs.</p>
<p>Without looking behind himself, he amends, “I’m up late. Couldn’t sleep a wink.”</p>
<p>I lean against the railing, facing Vulf, the great morning star to my back. “Yeah, I didn’t sleep too well either. Kept Fenn awake. I guess all three of us had a pretty bad night.” He nods, not looking away from the sky.</p>
<p>Wanting to lighten the already heavy mood, I get Vulf’s attention. “Guess what.” He looks at me, not saying anything. “Night before last, Fenn asked me to marry him.” I smile a little, despite the somber atmosphere.</p>
<p>“That’s good,” Vulf says, grinning a bit himself. “I’m looking forward to having a son-in-law finally. When’s the big day?”</p>
<p>“Well… we didn’t get that far, so we don’t know yet.”</p>
<p>“Get wrapped up in the romance and stopped the conversation?” Vulf smirks.</p>
<p>I breathe a puff of air out my nose. “A little.”</p>
<p>He nods, the smirk still on his face, as he shifts his gaze back to the skies—the sun well on its way upward. <em>At least his mood has changed a bit.</em></p>
<p>“I’m thinking about going into town today to see if I can get the Mages Guild to send a message to Father.” Vulf looks back to me. “It would be easier if you travelled back with us for the wedding—if you want to go—while we’re here. Jorunn can get things set up in Davon’s Watch for us and you can come back home as soon as you like.”</p>
<p>“I have a problem with something you just said,” he notifies me.</p>
<p>“Wha—What’s that?”</p>
<p>“<em>‘If’</em> I want to go to the wedding?” He shakes his head. “I thought you smarter than that.”</p>
<p>I shake my own head, a grin on my face. “I’d love to have you there,” I tell him earnestly.</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kid.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once Fenn woke up and found Vulf and I talking on the balcony a few hours into the day—and being upset that neither of us slept very well—he and I set out to check out the rest of Rimmen and get that message sent to Father. He thought it was a brilliant idea and wanted to get it done as soon as possible.</p>
<p>The Mages Guild gladly sent a messenger through their portal system to give Jorunn our message. The older Khajiit came back fifteen minutes later and told us Jorunn said to meet at the palace, not Davon’s Watch. I wondered where a shrine to Mara was in all of Eastmarch—the only one is Ebonheart zones being in Stonefalls—but decided to trust him.</p>
<p>Vulf, Fenn, and I packed our things after we received word back, almost ready to take off, when Vulf stopped me.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Your house in Windhelm—how long have you two been living there?”</p>
<p>“Um, a few months, maybe a bit less? Why?”</p>
<p>“So, it’s probably still pretty empty…”</p>
<p>I’m not sure where’s he’s heading. “Sort of. Why?” I ask again.</p>
<p>“Help me load something up into my cart.” He turns to go back up the steps and into his house.</p>
<p>Fenn and I move away from our horses we’d retrieved from the stables, wondering what Vulf has up his sleeve. Popping his head back out, he tells Fenn, “No, just Ivan. You hook up his horse to the cart. Won’t do us any good if it’s just left here,” and disappears back into the house. Fenn clearly is confused, as am I, but does as he’s told.</p>
<p>When I go into the house, Vulf is clearing off the low, rectangular, Elsweyr-style table we were eating off of just this morning.</p>
<p>“Come give me a hand,” he instructs me as he makes ready to lift one side.</p>
<p>“With what?” I know where he’s going with this.</p>
<p>He sighs. “To get this onto the cart. C’mon, I know you’re smarter than that.” He looks to me expectantly.</p>
<p>“This was your family’s,” I utter. “I’m not taking it.”</p>
<p>He sighs again, a quick frustrated sound. Standing up straight, he looks me dead in the eye. “No. It belonged to the people I was brought up with. <em>You’re</em> family, Ivan. You’re practically my gods-damned son. And you’re getting married—a day I didn’t know would ever come to pass, once you told me how you looked at people. I’m happy for you, and I’m trying to give you a gift, and you’re refusing it. And it’s pissing me off.” He sighs again, defeated this time. “Let me. Please. It got passed down to me from the woman I considered my mother, and I want to give it to the man I consider my son. …Please,” he repeats.</p>
<p>I stand, looking at him for a moment. Then, without saying anything, I go to the other side of the table and heave it into the air with him.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” I express.</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.” He smiles.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The trip back to Eastmarch was mush easier than the trip to Northern Elsweyr. Not only were there three of us—instead of two—to make defending ourselves practically hassle-free, but we tried to avoid Cyrodiil altogether in the first place.</p>
<p>There were a few bands of bandits here and there, but with Fenn’s staff, my bow, and Vulf’s swords, none of them lasted very long.</p>
<p>In no time, it seemed, we were riding into Windhelm’s city limits.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once the cart was parked outside Grymharth’s Woe, Vulf took the horses to the stable while Fenn and I hauled the table into the house. It would look rather charming placed among the few chairs and benches we’d set inside the sitting area to the right of the door.</p>
<p>When the table sits in its new home, Fenn calls my attention to him. “Dearest?”</p>
<p>“Hm, yes?” I turn to where he’s looking.</p>
<p>Next to the divider that sets the sitting room away from the fireplace and kitchen, sits a pedestal. On top of the pedestal sits something that looks an awful lot like a shrine to Mara. It wasn’t there when we left for Rimmen a couple weeks ago.</p>
<p>Vulf comes in at this time. “The steeds have good stables here. Quality.” He sees us staring at the shrine. “What in Oblivion?”</p>
<p>“Did Jorunn have that moved here from Stonefalls?” Fenn asks me. I look to him and shrug, shake my head in uncertainty, my eyes wide.</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Vulf intercedes. “He always was over-the-top. In his skald nature, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Let’s go ask him,” Fenn suggests.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You said, in your message, that you wanted a private ceremony!” Jorunn states. “Wouldn’t’ve been very private in the market district. I don’t see what the problem is here.”</p>
<p>“You had an entire shrine to Mara moved into our house, two whole zones away from where it should be!” I’m trying to make Father see the “problem” he’s failing to understand.</p>
<p>“It was shipped here by boat. Hardly an issue,” he declares. “Took less than a day.”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh. And how many favours did you have to call in for this one?”</p>
<p>“Just… Just a few.” I’ve caught him now—it wasn’t as easy as he’s trying to make it seem. I close my eyes to block out the setting of Father’s quarters, push a breath out my nose. “It’s too late now for all that anyway,” he continues. “Let’s just make the best of it.”</p>
<p>Fenn rubs circles on my back. “He just wanted to provide what you were wanting.”</p>
<p>“I know,” I almost whine in a low register, opening my eyes to look at Father. He’s looking at me apologetically. “Wouldn’t it have been easier just to shut down the market for an hour? As hard as that would’ve been, I’m sure it would’ve been easier than this.”</p>
<p>“Too late,” Jorunn repeats.</p>
<p>Vulf now swaggers in from the door. He said he had something to do and to find Jorunn first—that he’d catch up. It seemed his “something to do” was changing clothes—from his travelling attire to his Khajiit garb. <em>Wanting to make an impression, Vulf?</em></p>
<p>“Sorry I’m late,” he says, “but I really didn’t want to be here.” <em>Good impression,</em> I think, my thoughts dripping with sarcasm.</p>
<p>Jorunn stiffens at the sight of who he’s called a “vagrant” and “heathen” for years. Finally, he introduces himself. “Jorunn, Skald-King.”</p>
<p>“Vulf’dar, ground walker.”</p>
<p>They stare at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time, until I finally breach their walls of hostility. “Soooo, we’re all here. That’s a miracle of Stendarr.” My tone sounds just as uncomfortable on the outside as I’m feeling on the inside. They continue to stare each other down.</p>
<p>Fenn can feel it just as much as I can. He places his hand on my arm. “Why don’t you go back home and start supper? I’ll be behind you shortly to help.” He looks at me like I need to just trust him. I nod and walk out the door to Father’s chambers, but my curiosity gets the better of me, and I stay behind, just out of sight.</p>
<p>“Gentlemen, if I may,” I hear Fenn address them after a few moments. “I know you two have your differences, but you have more in common than you’re willing to concede. Don’t look at me like that—I know both of you better than you think.</p>
<p>“You both loved Kaia very much, it’s clear to see that. We <em>all</em> did. …But we’re not here for her. We’re here for Ivan. Undeniably, all three of us love him. And we need to show him <em>respect</em> and <em>devotion</em> on his important day. I, for one, am just happy he said yes. You two, however, know how long he’s been alone. And, yes, even with Ben, he was alone. Now he’s not—he’ll never be alone again—and this day signifies that, before the gods and everyone.</p>
<p>“He wanted both of you here. Badly. If he didn’t, it would just be us in front of that shrine tomorrow. Just, if you’ll excuse my saying, the pair of you need to put aside your differences, and celebrate this day with us. Afterward, feel free to bicker and fight—but it better not be around my fiancé. He sees you as fathers and it’s hurting him, seeing you two already not getting along, just five minutes in.</p>
<p>“I hate sending him away to have this talk with you in the first place, but gods be damned if I let you ruin one of our happiest occasions. Do we have an understanding?” I hear Jorunn and Vulf both mutter affirmations. “Good. Now, I’ll be leaving. Maybe it would be in your best interests to stay and talk amongst yourselves—try to resolve whatever age-old misunderstandings you two have. Good evening.”</p>
<p>Fenn leaves the room and closes the door behind himself, seeing me standing here. He doesn’t reprimand me like I figure he would—he instead looks at me with an almost nervous look in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” I whisper.</p>
<p>He just smiles—a small, timid thing—puts his arm around my shoulders, and leads us home.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Fenn and I got home, we started baking some chicken and risotto over the hearth’s fire. And when Vulf got back from his conversation with Jorunn, the two of us ate while Fenn chatted with us comfortably.</p>
<p>Vulf told me that he was sorry for acting so rudely to Jorunn all these years—even if it was indirect. He came to realize that they were just two sides of the same coin—both loved Mother, still do, and just greatly miss her. He said it was silly to see him as a sort of contender all this time—Jorunn was a good man, he took good care of me and Mother throughout the years. He promised me there would be no conflict come morning, that they’d settled their differences.</p>
<p>We’d arranged for Vulf to stay with us, at Grymharth’s Woe, instead of the palace or one of the two inns in town. Since our house only has one bedroom, he said he’d stay downstairs near the fireplace if we could produce him with some bedding. We gave him a pillow and some furs, and he easily made a pallet right in front of the fire. The weather of Windhelm, be it Sun’s Height or Morning Star, was too cold for him. <em>At least the fire will remind me of home’s warmth,</em> he’d said.</p>
<p>Fenn and I said goodnight and went upstairs.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I’m already laying in bed as Fenn changes into his nightclothes. When he gets in, I again look at the circles under his eyes—the other times being during supper. I’ve come to realize in the time we’ve been together that these are a tell-tale way of knowing he’s in need of blood.</p>
<p>“Thirsty, are you?”</p>
<p>He looks to me as he settles into the duvet. “Ah, it’s not that bad.” But even just my mentioning it makes him swallow hard.</p>
<p>“Alright. C’mon.” I scoot down a bit, cocking my head to the side. “You know you need it.”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to have you ill in the morning,” he tells me—yet, he’s eyeing my neck in want.</p>
<p>“And I won’t have you thirsty. Plus, how many times have I woken up feeling bad afterward?” When he says nothing, I raise my brows in emphasis and add, “Exactly. It’s not up for discussion, Fennorian. Have at it.” I gesture to my exposed flesh.</p>
<p>He frowns at my insistent tone but relents, knowing I’m right.</p>
<p>A few minutes later, when he normally is about done, Vulf parts the curtains hanging in the doorway and walks into the room. “Do you two have—S’rendarr’s mercy.” He backs away a bit as Fenn lifts his head to look at him. He wipes some stray blood away from his mouth.</p>
<p>“Oh. Oh, thank gods. I thought I walked in on you two fu—”</p>
<p>“What do you need?” I cut him off, sitting up to see him more clearly.</p>
<p>“I was going to see if I could get another blanket or two possibly. Even with the fire and all those furs, I’m freezing my nuts off. I just don’t know where you keep ‘em.”</p>
<p>Fenn sighs and hangs his head a little but climbs off the bed. He fetches a couple blankets from the lower drawer of his dresser and hands them to Vulf.</p>
<p>“Sorry for interrupting your meal.” He smirks at Fenn, then at me. “Sleep well.” He turns and leaves.</p>
<p>Fenn comes back to bed and throws the covers over himself in a mockingly irritated way. “Let’s not have a family straight away, Ivan. I do hate interruptions.”</p>
<p>I laugh a little and curl myself against his side.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It feels too early to get up, yet I’m awake. I don’t want to get out of bed. I feel, as Fenn put so elegantly, ill. The blankets are too warm, my hair is stuck to my face. I fling the covers off me, waking Fenn.</p>
<p>“Ivan, what’s the matter?”</p>
<p>“I’m going to hurl.”</p>
<p>His voice still is thick with sleep. “What?”</p>
<p>“Get the bucket!”</p>
<p>Fenn mists over to the tub in the corner of the room and quickly brings me the bucket we use for bathing. I get it in my hands just in time before I’m retching into it.</p>
<p>“Ivan!” He grabs my hair and pulls it out of the way, leaning over me, his other hand on my back.</p>
<p>After a minute, I can catch my breath. He mists again and brings me a washrag to wipe my mouth.</p>
<p>“Why did that happen?” His tone sounds like it was caused by a person and he has a personal vendetta now.</p>
<p>“Don’t know.”</p>
<p>“It was because of last night, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>I look up at him as he stands in front of me. “I don’t think so. I’ve never gotten sick after one of your feedings—I don’t think it was that. Maybe the chicken wasn’t cooked all the way. Or nerves about later. Maybe a combination.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t look convinced. “I still don’t like it.”</p>
<p>“Trust me, I don’t either.” I spit into the bucket, wipe my mouth again, and set both things down. I laugh bitterly. “Of all the days…” He sits next to me, putting his hand on my knee, and I lean my head against his shoulder.</p>
<p>“You’re covered in sweat, Ivan. …How about this? It’s still early yet. Why don’t you take a bath and I’ll brew you something to help you feel better? Maybe you can get some more sleep after that.”</p>
<p>I nod. He takes off to the parlour, where his alchemy set it, while I stand and head toward the bath.</p>
<p>Once behind the barriers, I undress and sink into the water. Normally, the temperature is atrocious—it always needs warming. But with how hot I was—and still kind of am—I rather enjoy the cool.</p>
<p>I’m laying asleep against the back of the tub when Fenn comes behind the walls and wakes me. “Here, love. This should help.” I take the concoction from his grasp and slam it down. His potions never taste <em>good</em>, but they always do the trick.</p>
<p>He grins at the face I make as it finds its way down. “You didn’t get any sort of clean, did you?” I sneer at him. He chuckles, grabbing a washrag. “Arms up,” he instructs, and I do as I’m told.</p>
<p>He washes some places, scrubs others—making me squirm for the more ticklish spots. He lathers soap from the Gold Coast in his hands, washing my hair—the hair that was practically plastered to my head with sweat just a little while ago.</p>
<p>His hands are so affectionate, he takes such care with his movements, that I wonder how I found someone so incredible. What did I do in life to earn such a loving and devoted partner? He sees me staring and grins.</p>
<p>“Getting tired again, are we?” He takes my gaze as a sign of drowsiness.</p>
<p>“A little. But that’s not why I’m staring. I’m just looking at you—appreciating what I have.”</p>
<p>He smiles and stands from his crouched position. “Get out and dry off, put something on. You clearly need some more rest.” He leaves me to go back out into the bedroom from this little walled-off area.</p>
<p>Yet again, I do as I’m told. I stand up and climb out of the tub, grab a towel and dry my body, my hair. I streak to my dresser and put on a clean pair of smalls and head back to the bed. I see that the bucket is gone—and so is Fenn.</p>
<p>After I’ve been in bed for a couple minutes—struggling to stay awake for his return—Fenn comes breezing into the room, putting the now-clean bucket back in its place, and climbs into bed himself.</p>
<p>With his potion making me feel much better, I feel more myself. I scoot next to him and lay my head on his chest, much like we fell asleep before this whole fiasco.</p>
<p>“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” he says, like it’s automatic, like he couldn’t fathom any other outcome.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Wake up!” I hear from somewhere in the room, jolting me from my slumber.</p>
<p>I open my eyes to see Vulf standing at the foot of the bed, a small smile on his lips as he looks at me and Fenn, our eyes blinking rapidly from being jarred awake.</p>
<p>“It’s wedding day, and the grooms are still in bed.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Jorunn and I have already began preparations. Time for you two to get up.”</p>
<p>“You’ve been working with Jorunn?” I ask, my tone incredulous.</p>
<p>Vulf looks at me with a face that says <em>duh.</em> “He’s getting the banquet hall together and he sent me here with your suits. They’re sitting in the changing area. Now, up, the both of you!” He stalks out of the room.</p>
<p>Vulf apparently had woken up at the crack of dawn to go to the palace and procure two suits Jorunn had had tailored for Fenn and me. They fit us well, and I wondered how Father got our measurements, but decided to let it go and appreciate them for what they are.</p>
<p>When Jorunn arrives, he is in his best, most formal Nordic attire. Opposite him, Vulf has gotten dressed in a robe fit for a Mane. The acolyte of Mara that brought the shine from Davon’s Watch, and our officiator, wears robes often seen on the deity’s followers.</p>
<p>The five of us stand in the sitting room, positioned around the shrine to Mara—the priest behind it, Fenn and I directly in front, Vulf and Jorunn to our sides. It’s a small intimate circle—just like I was wanting.</p>
<p>The vicar begins.</p>
<p>“It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?”</p>
<p>Fenn speaks first. “I do. Now and forever.” His gaze lands on me, a grin forming on his face.</p>
<p>The proctor looks to me, and asks, “Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?”</p>
<p>I smile myself, looking to the man standing next to me. “I do. Now and forever.”</p>
<p>“Then under the authority of Mara, the Divine of Love, I declare this couple to be wed. I present to the two of you with these matching rings, blessed by Mara's divine grace. May they protect each of you in your new life together.” He hands both of us a ring, which we place onto our fingers, almost balking at the sight of them.</p>
<p>“Kiss him, kiss him!” Vulf yells at me, making Jorunn chuckle.</p>
<p>He doesn’t have to tell me a third time. I step forward and bring Fenn into an eager kiss, more of a display than anything. I normally wouldn’t give into such affections with other people around, but today, let them stare.</p>
<p>It seems we’re taking too long, as I hear, “Ahem.” It’s Jorunn calling our attention to him with a grin, making us break away from each other. “Please, follow us,” he tells me and my new husband—<em>my husband</em>—as he, Vulf, and the disciple walk out the door.</p>
<p>Reluctantly, after another peck, we follow behind, our hands intertwined.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“What is all this?” I ask as the five of us enter the palace.</p>
<p>A band of merry bards, troubadours, and minstrels alike play tunes gaily in the far corner of the main hall. There are crowds of people from here to the back wall, covering nearly every inch of the room—they’re all in little circles, talking with one another. The tables are lined with food and people, also all chatting happily, and seeming to wait for something before eating. The cook’s assistants are hauling in more food from the kitchens as Jorunn claps me on the back.</p>
<p>“You only said you wanted a small ceremony. You said nothing about the feast afterward.” I look at him in near-horror. “Now, don’t look at me like that. I want to <em>celebrate…</em> and it’s not my fault half of Windhelm is needed in order to do that.” He steps forward and raises his arms in the air.</p>
<p>“My good people!” The musicians cease their playing and the partygoers look up at him, going silent. “My son and his husband!”</p>
<p>Everyone cheers and claps for us, despite me only recognizing a handful of faces. When the king tells you to rejoice for an occasion, you harken his call, by gods.</p>
<p>The music begins again and the sound of eating utensils on plates makes its own din as the people begin to dig into the banquet laid out before them.</p>
<p>“Father,” I step next to him in order for him to hear me. “Why did you do all this?”</p>
<p>“So you can have a night to remember. Spend time with Fenn, mingle with the people. Eat, dance, have a good time. For Kyne’s sake, I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do. Get out there.” He pushes on my shoulder, shoving me further into the room, into the crowd of people.</p>
<p>I look back to Fenn, like <em>Can you believe this guy?</em> He smiles and takes my hand again, leading me into the night.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The time we had at the palace was lovely.</p>
<p>We ate—well, I ate while Fenn stared at me with adoring eyes. We had some drinks—mead from the local meadery and imported vintage elven wines—Fenn even downing some himself for their effect. We listened to the music and danced until we felt we would fall over from the spirits running in our veins. Laughing and smiling the whole time, not more than a foot apart at any given moment, the festivities went far into the night. We only retired back to our house once we realized we were the only ones left in the great hall. Having too good a time, we neglected to notice the people slipping away.</p>
<p>When we got back to Grymharth’s Woe, we tried not to wake Vulf next to the fireplace downstairs, but failed completely when I tripped over the leg of the kitchen table and started laughing. Fenn tried to haul me up the stairs, telling me to be quiet, while simultaneously not watching his volume either. I could hear Vulf’s quiet chuckle as we made the landing.</p>
<p>Once upstairs, I tried to get Fenn out of his suit, nearly ripping its material in my drunken state. Him being with a more sober mind, pinned my hands down and did it himself while I looked on, pouting I couldn’t help in the process, but unable to hide the lust from my eyes.</p>
<p>Because I was well soused, everything was felt more intensely, less elusive. I found I didn’t care who heard—that obviously being Vulf just beneath us. I didn’t spare any whimper or cry as Fenn brought me to the edge countless times, us ending up in a sweaty heap of flesh an hour or more later. Time didn’t hold meaning.</p>
<p>I slept the best I’ve slept in years.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Are you two going anywhere special for your honeymoon?” Vulf asks me over breakfast, Fenn upstairs taking a bath. He doesn’t mention our loud entrance to the house, or our even louder pastime afterwards. Now that I’m sober, I’m glad he doesn’t talk about it—I’d likely die of embarrassment right here and now.</p>
<p>“Not sure yet,” I answer honestly, shaking the thought from my mind. “We’ve done a fair share of travelling in recent months. We may just end up staying here.”</p>
<p>“Well, they always say the hardest point in a marriage is the first year. So, be counting the days down until the first anniversary, then you’ll be safe,” he jokes.</p>
<p>I give a sensible chuckle. “I’ll keep an eye out for that.” My mind wanders over to another topic and I bring it up. “Why did you never find a maiden and settle down?”</p>
<p>He looks serious for a moment before a naughty gleam lights up his eyes. “That first year, Ivan—it’s a killer. I’d probably croak within the first month.” The more serious look comes back. “Never found anyone. I reckon it’s just too late for this old man now.” But I know there’s more to it than that. I don’t push him.</p>
<p>He takes one last bite of his breakfast and stands, taking a drink. “I suppose I need to be off soon.”</p>
<p>“What’s the rush?”</p>
<p>“Not really in a rush,” he says. “Just want to give you two some space.” He looks at me, the joking look coming back. “Don’t think I could stay in a house with a recently married couple for much longer anyway. I’m glad he makes you feel good, Ivan, but <em>damn.</em>” <em>Knew it’d come up.</em> I feel my cheeks heating up and he laughs.</p>
<p>He changes subjects—and I’m happy about it. “Keep the cart. I can get me and my mount home, but I don’t know about that one.”</p>
<p>“Star travel?” I ask, still trying to shake the awkwardness.</p>
<p>“You know it.”</p>
<p>Mum and Vulf used to travel by the stars all the time, and I understand he’s quite the professional—he’s been doing it long enough to be really precise in where he lands. I aspire to be as good as him one day.</p>
<p>Fenn comes down the steps, fully clothed but still drying his hair with a towel. He sees Vulf packing his things and asks, “Leaving already?”</p>
<p>“Afraid so. The sands call to me.” He uses an altered version of the phrase he used to say when he’d leave Mother’s house when I was younger. It’s no longer Nirn that calls to him, but home in Elsweyr.</p>
<p>“Well, it was wonderful having you here with us for the wedding,” Fenn continues. “You’ll come visit us, right?”</p>
<p>“If you come visit me,” he proposes.</p>
<p>“Of course we will,” I cut in.</p>
<p>He looks pleased as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you two later, then.” He smiles and goes out the door, headed to the stables to get his horse and go back home.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As if Fenn heard me and Vulf talking during breakfast, he asks me, “Is there any place you want to go now? For a honeymoon?”</p>
<p>I laugh at the transparency of his question versus the conversation. Without thinking, my mouth spurts, “Malabal Tor.”</p>
<p>He looks to me from his book. “Why there?”</p>
<p>“You know… I’m not sure.” I set my lute aside, having been filling the air with simple tunes. “You know how you had a feeling that pulled you back to Skyrim? Before you met me?” He nods. “I felt the same thing about Skyrim, like we’ve discussed. But now, I’m almost… feeling the same sensation again, but for Valenwood.”</p>
<p>His brows raise. “Valenwood?” I nod. “Wonder why there… But alright. We can pack and you can send us there whenever you’re ready.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The flash of light brings us near the wayshrine of the Baandari Trading Post.</p>
<p>There are guild traders and merchants with their shops set up in the main square, an inn and tavern, and even the Mages and Fighters Guilds have a place here in this small town. Where mountains don’t form natural barriers around the little settlement, stoic walls take their place.</p>
<p>Although we’re on the edge of Reaper’s March—a sandy area like Elsweyr—I can see the forest from here. Valenwood’s larger-than-life trees rise high up above us. I realize these trees have been here for who knows how long, and will continue to be here long after everyone on Nirn dies. The sounds emanating from the forest encapsulates me—utterly and completely enchanting me. I can hear large animals walking around, creatures stirring high up in the trees. Birds call and moisture filters down from the leaves large enough to cover this whole town. <em>Beautiful.</em></p>
<p>“Which way, Ivan?” Fenn suspends my fascination of the place.</p>
<p>“Um… I suppose this way is as good as any.” I point to the north gate and we head in that direction.</p>
<p>After walking on the path for a while, we happen across a woman leaned up against a rock.</p>
<p>The Wood Elf seems to have caught herself in quite the situation—she’s bruised and cut deep in several places, including across her torso, that she holds in pain. A bundle of furs lie next to her. <em>Why doesn’t she take those up to stop the bleeding?</em></p>
<p>Fenn and I run up to her, distressed to see her in this predicament. “Hello?” I touch her arm. She looks up at me, looks to Fenn. Her breathing is shallow. “What happened to you?” I ask.</p>
<p>“Lurcher. Came out of nowhere. I thought the Green Pact was sacred. …Sliced me up good, didn’t he?”</p>
<p>“How long ago?” Fenn asks her.</p>
<p>“An hour, maybe more. Hard to tell.” Her face betrays the pain she’s in.</p>
<p>“About the time we left home,” I mutter as Fenn digs through his bag, producing a potion. “What if we left earlier…?”</p>
<p>He doesn’t answer my wonderings, since there’s nothing we can do about it now. “Here,” he offers it to her, “this should help the pain.”</p>
<p>She takes it from his hand but almost drops it. He takes it again and helps her drink it. “That tastes right awful,” she jokes once she’s got it down, a grin on her face despite the pain she’s still in.</p>
<p>Fenn and I both know we’re too late. Only comfort we can give her is in easing her pain—she’s been injured too bad for too long to save. <em>I thought I could heal most things. Foolish being cocky.</em></p>
<p>“My—” She coughs, blood coming up with it—it spurting some onto Fenn’s armour. He puts a hand on her shoulder—one of the only unscathed places, it seems—as a way to steady her. She tries again. “My baby. Please take care of my baby. She was just born before he got me.” She looks down to the bundle of furs next to her. “I tried to shield her from the blows. Please say she’s okay.”</p>
<p>Kneeling down next to the furs, I roll the bundle over a little bit. Sure enough, there is a face—a baby Bosmer’s face—concealed in it.</p>
<p>I pick her up quickly, waking her from a deep slumber. She looks at me with her big green eyes, not concerned at seeing a complete stranger. She doesn’t cry or whine—she seems totally content to be in my arms.</p>
<p>“She’s gone, Ivan.” I look down to the woman to see her sitting against the rock, lifeless. Looking from the mother to the baby, I see the babe is already asleep again.</p>
<p>“Fennorian…” I know he won’t like the idea too much, but I have to pitch it.</p>
<p>He stands up in front of me. “Ivan, no.”</p>
<p>“Fenn…” I whine.</p>
<p>“We can take her back to the trading post or someplace like it. She’d be better off with her own people in her own land. We don’t know much about Wood Elves. Or babies for that matter.”</p>
<p>I just look at my husband, my eyes pleading with him.</p>
<p>He closes his own eyes and puffs a breath out from his nose. “Is it still there for you?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“The lure you had for Valenwood.”</p>
<p>I look down to the baby girl in my arms. I haven’t inspected her, but I just know that she’s alright—she didn’t get hurt by her mother’s attacker. She’s laying still, asleep, satisfied.</p>
<p>I look back to Fenn. “No.”</p>
<p>He heavy sighs. “Let’s go home, then.”</p>
<p>I smile as I prepare to take us back to Windhelm.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once home, the baby wakes up, seeming to know this is her new residence.</p>
<p>“We’re going to need a cradle and whatnot,” Fenn rattles off. “And a way to get milk, because last I checked, neither of us can produce it.” He keeps talking—partly to himself, partly to me—as he walks around the house, making mental notes on things that’ll be changing. “Might want to invest in a rocking chair…” he keeps going.</p>
<p>I leave him to his lists as I head up the stairs. <em>She’s been in these furs too long</em>, I think. The babe is looking at me, twisting her face as she stretches, making little noises as I rewrap her in a fresh blanket. Sitting next to the fire in the parlour, I pull the blanket closer to her. Being a Bosmer, she’s bound to be cold this far north on Nirn.</p>
<p>Fenn joins us, standing behind me and looking at the little one. “Have a name yet?”</p>
<p>“Haven’t even thought about it.”</p>
<p>“You’ll want to be thinking of one—now that you’re her papa.”</p>
<p>I look behind me to Fenn’s face. He’s smiling at me.</p>
<p>“I had the idea you didn’t care much about this ordeal…”</p>
<p>“Well, I did say night before last that I didn’t want to start a family so soon. Of course, I was joking—I didn’t think we’d actually have any children. But she dropped right into our hands, and I must admit, she’s growing on me.” I look back to her. Warm and snug in her new swaddling clothes, she’s fallen back to sleep.</p>
<p>Fenn comes around in front of us and holds his arms out. Handing him the baby girl, I see a smile creep onto his face. “Well, if I’m the papa, then you’re the dad,” I tell him. His smile widens at the sound of it.</p>
<p>“We need to name her,” he states, taking a seat next to me in the other chair.</p>
<p>“Well, she’s a Bosmer,” I say. “Should we name her something her people would choose?”</p>
<p>“Maybe.” He bounces her a little bit, but not enough to wake her. “What do you think?” he asks her as she yawns, her mouth opening into a big <em>O.</em></p>
<p>We sit in silence for a little while, the three of us, getting used to the new normal.</p>
<p>A name crops up in my mind and I spit it out—just like the place I wanted to go when Fenn asked—without thinking so much as a second about it.</p>
<p>“Suvi.”</p>
<p>Fenn looks up to me from the babe’s face. “Suvi?” I nod, and he looks back down to her, seeing if the name fits. “I like it. Suvi Björkman.” He automatically gives her my surname, his own left in the past when he joined House Ravenwatch, and later taking mine as his own. I like the sound of it—Suvi Björkman, daughter to Fennorian and Ivan Björkman.</p>
<p>We continue to sit in our little bubble of bliss, welcoming the idea of such a life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Papa's Bow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Papa’s Bow</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">Ivan POV</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’m sat in front of the fireplace, polishing my lute with a clean cloth while Mother is busying herself by cleaning out her dresser in the bedroom. She says it’s accumulated too much stuff in recent years.</p>
<p>I don’t know why I’m choosing now to bring it up, but it <em>is</em> something I’ve thought about for the last five or so years. I take a deep breath and dive into the pool I might as well drown in.</p>
<p>“Mum?”</p>
<p>It sounds like she’s got her head up a mammoth’s snout when she replies. “Yes, dear?”</p>
<p>“Did you ever try to find my family? Like, my real family?”</p>
<p>I hear her rooting cease. I’m still rubbing a bit of turpentine onto the back of my instrument when she comes around the partition—and I’m carefully keeping my face composed. It’s obvious that the topic makes her uneasy, like I figured it would. It’s why I’ve been putting it off for gods know how long.</p>
<p>She sighs and comes into the sitting area, taking a seat on the stool next to me.</p>
<p>“I’ve been wondering when that would come up.” Her tone is forlorn. “I mean, I wasn’t completely positive you knew your heritage wasn’t mine, but I hoped.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and says, “Before you go asking your questions, let me ask you something first. What made you question it? …And how long have you known? I’m just curious,” she reassures, not wanting to scare me into retracting my curiosity.</p>
<p>“Well, neither Vulf nor Jorunn are my father. And I don’t think I look too much like you—hardly at all, really.” I set my lute behind me on the nearby chair. “And I’ve been wondering since I was about thirteen, give or take.”</p>
<p>“That long?” Her face scrunches up. “Why’d it take so long for you to ask me if you’ve known for almost five years?”</p>
<p>“I was dreading it,” I tell her in earnest. “You’ve always been my mother and I didn’t want you to think that I was ungrateful for all you’ve done for me in my life.” I get onto my knees and scoot my way over to be in front of her. “I love you, Mother. Please don’t take my asking as being unthankful—or me wondering if I would have had it better or whatever. I’m glad I was put with you, no matter how it happened.”</p>
<p>Mum smiles—a small, sad thing—and draws me in for a hug, our height being about the same. I lay my head against her shoulder as she says, “I suppose it’s time to tell you about how you came to be, then.”</p>
<p>The next couple hours is spent with Mother telling me in detail about how she was on her way to Voljar’s Meadery to get Father a bottled apology, when she was stopped by my cries; how I’d just been born and was about to get eaten by Rageclaw; how Jorunn killed the infamous werewolf; how he’d taken us both back to the Palace of the Kings and nursed us both back to health before coming here—back home in The Rift—and staying for a little while to help Mum learn how to take care of me.</p>
<p>I was shocked at such a turn of events taking place during my apparently violent entrance into the world—but it all made sense in its own way, in retrospect.</p>
<p>Mother’s claw marks on her body—old scars that had healed mostly, but are all over and still very visible—were explained. They’re from when she shielded me from Rageclaw with her own body and took the beating with all the strength her body had to offer.</p>
<p>She hardly shifts into a beast anymore. She’s said that it’s because she doesn’t have the need—that she rarely goes out into spaces in which she’ll need the protection. But I know it’s mostly because she doesn’t want to frighten me, seeing her in her alternate form. On top of that, I see that her reasoning may also be because of the werewolf she had to endure in that moment—she couldn’t even fight back. She may have some unconscious notion about werewolves that keeps her from shifting these days.</p>
<p>As we continued talking about all this, she mentioned in passing that we needed to start dinner, and now we sit at the table eating the venison stew we made over the hearth together during the span of our talk.</p>
<p>“So, you think I’m part Breton?” I ask. I have no clue, since I’ve only seen Nords and Redguards at this point in my life.</p>
<p>“That’s what Jorunn, Vulf, and I have come to settle on,” Mother replies. “From all our travels, it’d be the best guess. You’re not full Nord.” She sops up some of the stew with a piece of bread and continues, “I know—scandalous, huh?” She chuckles around her mouthful.</p>
<p>“A Breton and Nord making it?” I ask, chuckling a bit myself.</p>
<p>“Ivan Björkman!”  Mum chastises as she laughs a little harder, a piece of her bread flying out of her mouth and onto the table. “I raised you better than that. Where have you gotten your humour, young man? Gods.” Through her reprimanding, I know she’s not serious, as she still laughs.</p>
<p>Without even thinking, I answer, “Well, you know how Vulf is.”</p>
<p>She shakes her head, her laughter dying down a bit. “Should have known it’d come from him—of course that’s where you picked it up, where else.” After a minute, she answers my question with, “But, yes. All three of us agree on that—thinking that you’re Nord and Breton.” A bit quieter, “At least the three of us agree on something.” Mother stands and takes her now-empty bowl to the washtub in an attempt to hide her face from me in her sudden new mood. I pretend not to have noticed.</p>
<p>“What more can you tell me?” I ask. I’m hoping it will get her mind off of her past and present lovers’ differences.</p>
<p>“Bretons are known for their magicka abilities, since they have elven blood far down the line. It explains why you’re so good with restoration magic.” I dig into my mind’s palace and try to think of all the things I know about Bretons, but come up short as Mother continues. “You may be of nobility, but I can’t be sure. Since your mother had an Argonian with her, it may signal financial status.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t think of it like that,” I admit as she moves back to the table and sits.</p>
<p>I think better of the question that makes its way into my mind and keep it to myself. But Mother always knows these things. “What is it, Ivan?”</p>
<p>I sigh, knowing I can’t keep the question from her for long, so I might as well come out with it already. “I asked earlier, but you never answered me.” She raises her eyebrows in encouragement. “Why did you never look for the rest of my family?”</p>
<p>“Because—” She sighs herself, not wanting to answer—I can tell—but figures I’d worm it out of her eventually. “Because I was content having you to myself. It’s selfish, yes, but I knew I was never going to have any children, and I lamented it for years. Up until I found you, if I’m being completely honest. So, I kept you all to myself, only sharing you with Jorunn or Vulf when I had to.” She grins at me sarcastically.</p>
<p>“But,” she continues, “I didn’t know how to look for your family even if I truly wanted to. I had no idea where you mother and Argonian protector were from, and I didn’t have any sort of clue on where to start a search for your father. I didn’t wrestle with those ideas for very long, though, as I knew I was going to keep you.” She chuckles. “Jorunn tried to get me to allow a family in Windhelm to keep you instead, but… well, you know how hardheaded I can be.”</p>
<p>“He gave in, obviously,” I finish, to which she nods, a sheepish grin on her lips.</p>
<p>Over the course of our conversation on my origins, I’ve been batting an idea back and forth. After a few minutes of silence between us, and me thinking whether or not I want to broach said idea, I suck it up and go for it.</p>
<p>“Mum, I think I want to find my father—my birth father.” She looks up at me from her journal she started writing in a few minutes before, while I was thinking about it. Her quill falls out of her hand, but I’m quick to continue, “Just because I want to know more about him and my mother.” I feel myself digging a deeper hole with my word choice. “Well, more about myself, really, but through them. I’m not looking to replace our family. Maybe add to it a bit, is all, but—” I stop myself before I can make it any worse.</p>
<p>Mother looks back down to her journal, her features clearly showing dejection. She picks up her quill but doesn’t write anything. “If you feel you must. I can’t tell you what to do anymore.” She sets her quill down between the pages and closes the journal. “But, Ivan, you’re not yet eighteen. Close, I know, but—” She sighs, looking to me from her closed journal. “I’m nervous for you to go out into the world. It’s such a big and scary place at times. You’re bound to get hurt, I just know it—I have a gut feeling.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be careful,” I say, my tone soft. I take her hand in my own. “I know you’re scared. But I have to go at some point—leave home. Might as well be in me trying to find out more about my ancestry.”</p>
<p>Mother’s face looks as if a thousand things are going through her head—a number of them flashing across her mouth, as if she’s close to verbalizing some of them—before she settles on one she wants to bring up. “Can you at least wait until you’re eighteen? Get a good eighteen summers in your before you go off across the entirety of Tamriel?”</p>
<p>“Will you just come up with something else to keep me home once that time comes?” I ask, knowing how Mother can be.</p>
<p>“No.” She grins sullenly. “I’ll want to. But I won’t.”</p>
<p>I push air out of my nose. “I suppose I can wait a few more months then.”</p>
<p>She reverses our hands and now hers is gripping onto mine. “Thank you.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The few months Mother and I came to a compromise on went by in a haze. I continued to ask her questions as I thought of them, and her attitude on the topic seemed to ease somewhat with every passing day. Until the day before I said I was going to leave. She helped me pack some of my possessions with a tight lip—her good nature clearly gone.</p>
<p>She gave me her mare, Yngvi, as a means to get to wherever I was headed. I told her I’d start in Daggerfall, since it seemed a hotspot for the Breton people, among others. Maybe someone heard about an affair between a Nord woman and a Breton man at some point in their gossip-loving lives. Mother conceded that it to be a good place to start, saying that’s where her life begun when she went off on her own when she was thirteen.</p>
<p>After the longest hug I’ve ever given Mum, my things hanging off Yngvi’s saddle, I rode out into The Rift.</p>
<hr/>
<p>With a good month of travelling, I finally arrive in Daggerfall—thanks to the kind people along the way, showing me in the right direction. Who thought going to High Rock from Skyrim would take so long? Certainly not me. But I did try to set a somewhat slower pace, though, as Yngvi had seen two decades and more, and I wanted the ride to be as easy on her as I could make it.</p>
<p>As I ride into the main square of Daggerfall where a woman is voicing the daily news, I ride up to a stable that is directly and conveniently to my right.</p>
<p>“Could I stable my horse here for a little while?” I ask the Redguard woman that seems to be the stablemaster.</p>
<p>“Be a small fee, but sure. Twenty gold.”</p>
<p>I count out the coin and hand it to her, putting Yngvi in with the other horses. After being with her for a month on the road, I figured she might act out with a bit of separation anxiety, but she gladly walks up to the feeding trough and starts grazing with a rather large equine beast.</p>
<p>I try to think of a way to articulate what I want while I’m here. The woman seems to sense my traveler-type nature and asks, “What is it you’re looking for? You seem lost.” She chuckles a little.</p>
<p>“Well,” I begin. “I’m looking for someone, but I don’t know quite how to find him.”</p>
<p>“What’s his name?”</p>
<p>I grin and look to the ground for a second, rubbing the back of my neck. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t know. He’s my birth father and nobody knows his name.”</p>
<p>Her brows ascend. “One of those situations, eh?”</p>
<p>Finally, I get what she means. “Oh, no. No, I’m adopted. My mother wasn’t being… promiscuous. We just don’t know who he is…” I feel like I’m letting on too many details to this stranger.</p>
<p>“I get it, wayfarer. Well, then. Any details you do know could help me get a better idea of who you’re looking for.”</p>
<p>“He’s Breton. And he’d have to be in his mid-thirties, at least. He’s good with magicka, because I’m sure I didn’t get it from my birth mother.”</p>
<p>The stablemaster squints in deep thought. After several long seconds, she says, “I’m sorry, but I have no idea. You might want to check with the Mages Guild. If he’s good with magic like you say, it’s possible he was with them. Even if not, they may have a better idea where to look than me. Work keeps me here and I only see those that pass by quickly or stop for something.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” I reply. “I’ll check with the Mages Guild then. Where can I find that?”</p>
<p>She points to the building behind me. “That’s it right there. I do wish you luck, young man. Sorry I couldn’t be of any more help.”</p>
<p>“You’ve helped me,” I tell her with a smile. “I’ll be back for my mare after a while, should I be unsuccessful.”</p>
<p>With this, I make an about-face and head toward the building she pointed me towards.</p>
<p>Once inside, I see a man standing next to a table, writing on some parchment. I take him as a recordkeeper—or hope he is anyway.</p>
<p>“Excuse me.” He looks up from his writing with a curious glance. “I was wondering if you could help me.”</p>
<p>“Looking to join our guild, young man?”</p>
<p>I freeze for a second, transfixed by the idea for a brief moment before remembering my reason for coming in here. “Maybe some other time,” I tell him. “No, actually, I’m in here to see if you know anything about a man I’m looking for.”</p>
<p>I go into my description much like I did with the stablemaster. The man—who is ranked as a mystic—has no idea who it is I’m meaning. I can’t help but feel disappointed as he wishes me luck in my search. I step outside, dismay thoroughly coursing through me.</p>
<p>“Hey, there, handsome.” To my right, I see a man leaning against the railing at the foot of the steps casually. He seems to be a Breton—from the few I’ve seen thus far—and probably in his early twenties. And he’s speaking directly at me.</p>
<p>“Uh, hello,” I reply, not wanting to be rude.</p>
<p>“Couldn’t help but hear your conversation earlier with Blandine. You’re looking for your father. Right?”</p>
<p>I don’t know who he speaks of, or how he heard me and the stablemaster talking, but he clearly overheard the conversation. I nod.</p>
<p>“Thought so.” He smiles as he shrugs away from the railing. “I think I may know who it is you’re looking for. If you’ll humour me… what’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Ivan. …Björkman,” I add as an afterthought. I’m not sure if I can trust him, but he has a sort of charisma I can’t ignore.</p>
<p>“Well, Ivan. I’m Ben. I’ve always thought my name was strange compared to my High Rock brethren, but next to yours, I think it’s boring, too, now. It suits you.” He grins at me with a weird look in his eyes. Best way I can describe it is mischievous with a hint of something else—I’ve seen the same look in Mother’s eyes when she’s joking around with Father.</p>
<p>And in turn, I feel something in my gut rising up and into my chest. I don’t know what it is and it’s making me slightly uncomfortable, but only as I’ve never felt it before—besides that, I almost like it. He moves his grin to the ground, releasing me from his gaze.</p>
<p>“Well,” he continues. “I’m pretty sure I know who your father is. Buy me a pint and I’ll tell you about him.” He keeps his eyes to the ground, giving me a chance to decline in relative peace. But as I’m given no other options, I decide to accept the one chance at information in front of me.</p>
<p>“Alright. But you’re going to have to lead me to the tavern, because I’ll be honest, I’ve never been here before.”</p>
<p>Ben looks up and meets my eyes now that he has his answer. “I thought you didn’t sound like you were from around here.”</p>
<p>The peculiar man leads me to a place called The Rosy Lion and we settle into a table in the corner where people seem to shy away from due to the lack of light. The barmaid comes to take our orders after a minute of us being here in silence.</p>
<p>“An ale, please, sweetheart,” Ben tells the young girl. He looks to me to see what I’ll get.</p>
<p>“Um… can I get some tea with lemon?” I ask.</p>
<p>The girl nods and walks off to the bar where she puts the order in with the barkeep.</p>
<p>“Not a drinker, Ivan?” Ben asks, gaining my attention again.</p>
<p>“Not particularly,” I tell him honestly, grinning with a bit of embarrassment. “I’m not a stranger to it, but it’s far from my preference.” He seems surprised but doesn’t ask anything more.</p>
<p>Once the barmaid comes back with my tea and Ben’s ale, he burrows in to tell me about my father.</p>
<p>“So, the man you’re looking for,” he starts, “your father—he’s not here anymore.” At my look of frustration, he continues, “He was, until a few years ago. He moved to Rivenspire, so he’s not too far. His name is Edward Ashcroft and he bought the alchemist’s shop in Shornhelm.”</p>
<p>“How do you know him?” I question. It’s odd for a random person to know so much about someone specific being sought after by someone else who has never been to the area.</p>
<p>In the first few seconds of me asking him this, he looks a little uncomfortable, as if he doesn’t know how to word it—but then he gains composure and tells me, “I work in the stables that you stopped at. He’d come by from time to time. I’ve always been good with names and faces, so I knew who you were wanting right off the bat.”</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you step forward then—save me from all that trouble with the Mages Guild?”</p>
<p>He shrugs, a cheeky grin on his face. “My shift wasn’t over yet.” <em>Of course not.</em></p>
<p>After a few minutes, Ben and I finishing our drinks, he stands and asks if he could show me anywhere else in the city.</p>
<p>“Perhaps.” I admit, “I need to pick up some rations apparently. I’d like to head to Rivenspire soon, if possible. My father is the whole reason I’ve come this direction in the first place.”</p>
<p>He grins. “Sure thing.”</p>
<p>Leading us out the door, he brings us by the stables—winking to the stablemaster as we pass—across a small footbridge, and into a marketplace where a grocer sells her provisions. I bought enough apples and potatoes to last me until I made the trek north into Shornhelm—another mysterious city to me.</p>
<p>Ben helped me pack Yngvi’s saddlebags with the food and walked beside me as I led her out the gates of Daggerfall by the reins.</p>
<p>“Well, Ivan, I hope you find your father. He’s a very nice man—so, you don’t have to worry about that.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for your help, Ben,” I tell him in earnest. “It’s good to know I have at least one pleasant contact in Glenumbra.”</p>
<p>“It was my pleasure.” He stops our walking with a gentle hand on my forearm. I turn to look at him, wondering if he’s wanting to show me something or other. And I guess it could be viewed like that.</p>
<p>He leans forward and gives me an unexpected kiss on the lips before backing up a few steps and saying, “Look me up if you ever make it back to town.” With this, he turns and walks back the way we came.</p>
<p>I stand by my mare, looking after the man I met no more than a couple hours ago—the man that just gave me my first kiss. So nonchalantly.</p>
<p>I stand here, still as a deer in a lanternlight’s beam, until he’s been gone through the gate for several seconds. I then realize that I should probably be off to Shornhelm. <em>Instead of standing here, looking like a looney, I can think about it on the way.</em></p>
<p>And that’s exactly what I do.</p>
<p>
  <em>How do I even feel about it? Surprised, obviously. That was not what I was expecting at all. Does he just go around, kissing anyone he talks to—gives paternal leads to? Was that why he winked to the stablemaster?</em>
</p>
<p>I’m not blind to the fact that Ben is a handsome, young man. But I can’t decide how I feel it affects me. <em>It doesn’t, I feel like?</em></p>
<p>I’ve seen Mother kiss Jorunn—and even Vulf a few times. There’s always a love present that cannot be denied. I can tell they want each other—in all the ways. If I weren’t in their vicinity, who’s to say it wouldn’t go further than they allow it?</p>
<p>For this sole reason, when Father stays over—if the weather is decent—I stay in the stable for the night with Yngvi. It gives them privacy and gives me a chance to not have to witness them in a way that could scar how I view them in the everyday.</p>
<p>But when I look back at how Ben’s kiss affected me, it has not even remotely a similar reaction for me. Like, sure it was neat, and I might want to do it again—maybe take it a step further, where it’s not so chaste—but I can’t see it going anywhere else.</p>
<p>
  <em>Do you have to be older to want such things? I know I’m still young, but I think I’m old enough to want some adult doings… But I don’t?</em>
</p>
<p>When I think about it—how I feel on the subject—it’s not just with Ben. It’s with everyone else, too—</p>
<p>I’m forced out of my mind and into where I stand. While thinking about my encounter and how it impacted me, I managed to pass through all of Glenumbra and a part of Stormhaven, moving into Rivenspire and toward Shornhelm. I currently am on the perimeter of a farm that has been overrun with bloodfiends. I have to be careful here, or fight all of them—which I not only feel unprepared for, but do not have time or the energy to expel. <em>I need to find my father.</em></p>
<p>Treading lightly around the farm, I continue north, toward the big walls that resemble Daggerfall. <em>Bretons have interesting architecture. </em>I’m used to the structures of Nords—and much prefer it.</p>
<p>When I go up the stairs with Yngvi—now leading her by the reins to lessen her strain—I ask a woman at one of the stalls right outside the gates, “Where is the alchemist’s shop?”</p>
<p>She points toward the gates and to the left. “Make a left in the square, right as you enter the gates here. It’ll be the first building on your right—you can’t miss it.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” I head off in the direction she pointed me towards.</p>
<p>I smell the herbs and flowers inside before I see the sign hanging outside. After tying Yngvi to the post of the railing of the building, I head in.</p>
<p>There’s what looks to be an Orc woman inside, not the Breton man I was expecting. “Excuse me,” I say anyway to get her attention.</p>
<p>She looks up from her ledger. “Can I help you?”</p>
<p>“I’m looking for… uh…” I try to remember the name Ben told me back in the tavern in Daggerfall. It hits me. “Edward Ashcroft? I was told he bought this place.”</p>
<p>“He did. Thankfully he let me keep my job when the shop switched hands. What do you need him for?”</p>
<p>“I have a… letter for him,” I lie. There’s no need for her to know my reasoning. She’d probably think I was lying anyway. I hope my hesitation is slight enough that she didn’t notice.</p>
<p>She sighs, clearly not buying into my “courier” façade. But she relents, as she says, “He’s across the street, in the house there. Today is his day off. Don’t go bothering him for too long.” I thank the woman and leave the shop.</p>
<p>The house across the way is a decent size. The windows are clean, the door is inviting. Then I begin to wonder what’s awaiting me inside.</p>
<p>Does my father have a spouse, other children? Does he live alone? What’s he like? I decide to buck up and find out.</p>
<p>Stepping forward, I knock on the door. It takes a minute, but the door opens to a man who looks like he needs his day off—he’s so tired-looking. He has black hair like me; his eyes are bordering on a grey colour; his height is on the shorter side, but his build is similar to mine. I can’t mistake the likenesses. And he seems to mistake them even less.</p>
<p>His eyes go wide with surprise. “Come—” He swallows hard. “Come in!”</p>
<p>I enter the one-room house and he closes the door behind me. There’s no one else in here besides him. From the looks of it, it seems he lives alone. There are clothes—both clean and dirty—laying all over the place, dishes not quite put into their cupboards, the bedclothes are strewn about.</p>
<p>He cleans off a few articles of clothing from the chair at the dining table and gestures to the seat, as if for me to take it. I do and he sits on the bed, not four feet from me. He’s staring at me intently, and I wonder if he knows why I’m here. <em>With him gawking at me this hard, it’s almost like he can read my mind.</em></p>
<p>“My sweet Hildegard.” He’s looking at me with almost a longing look now. “Where is she?” He grins slightly in anticipation.</p>
<p>“My mother?” I ask.</p>
<p>He nods. “You look just like her. You have her eyes—exact duplicates.” He stands and comes toward me, crouching down on the floor in front of my face. “I can see her cheekbones. Definitely her lips.” He smiles. “But you have my straight, black hair. My complexion, nose.” He sighs, content. “Where is she?” he asks again. “Did she come with you?” He looks toward his door for a moment before looking back to me, hope in his eyes.</p>
<p>I sigh, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news. <em>He deserves to know.</em></p>
<p>“If I am your son, and this Hildegard you speak of is truly my mother, then I fear I must break something to you.” From the beginning, his face shows confusion, more than likely at my odd “accent,” for being spawn of a Breton and a Nord—but then his expression shifts to apprehension toward the end.</p>
<p>“My mother, and the Argonian she was with, were cut down by a werewolf in Eastmarch eighteen years ago. Right after I was born. I was only spared because a woman was passing by and heard me crying in the snow. She took me in.”</p>
<p>My father’s face falls completely. “My—My Hildegarde is…” He stands from his position in front of me and feels his way back to the bed, his eyes glazed over.</p>
<p>I stand and follow him, laying a hand on his shoulder when he’s seated. Tears start leaking from his eyes as he considers what I’ve told him.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I obviously never knew her, but it’s clear you loved her very much.” He nods, his gaze unseeing.</p>
<p>“She was…” He sniffles. “She was my only love. …She—” He buries his face into his hands.</p>
<p>Although I don’t know the man I’m standing before, he’s my flesh and blood—and he’s hurting deeply. I sit next to him and wrap my arm around his shoulders. It’s easy to envelope most of him due to my larger stature.</p>
<p>He leans into my embrace and continues crying for a few minutes, nearly <em>sobbing</em> with the sudden grief in knowledge of his love’s passing.</p>
<p>After his tears start to ease up, he pulls away from me, but not quite out of my grasp. He looks me in the eye, searching for something it seems, his own being red-rimmed and sore-looking.</p>
<p>“At least I have a piece of her.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>When my father said that, I don’t know quite what I was expecting, but it wasn’t the emotions I felt. At his words, I teared up a bit myself and pulled him into a full chest-to-chest hug.</p>
<p>Here, all these years, I had no idea he existed. And he had no idea I was even born, from the sound of things. I felt <em>guilt</em> for him not knowing about my mother’s death, for not knowing about me these last eighteen years. For me being tucked away safely in The Rift while he was out here, wondering about his lover this whole time.</p>
<p>After Edward—it feels rather queer to call him Father or Dad, since those titles are Jorunn’s—began to accept Hildegard’s death, I told him about my life thus far.</p>
<p>I told him how Mother—or Kaia, as I called her for his sake—found and raised me as if I was her own, the entirety taking place in Eastern Skyrim. How her childhood friend came in from his travels from time to time to see us, how Jorunn was the man I called Father—and how he’s the King of the Ebonheart Pact. Edward was impressed it seemed, to say the least.</p>
<p>He said he was proud that I grew up to be such a fine young man and how happy he was that I found a loving family to raise me. I could tell he was upset that he never got the chance to raise me himself with Hildegard, but was pleased enough to know that her bloodline didn’t stop with her when she was murdered by Rageclaw. He was also glad to hear that said werewolf was killed not long after he killed her—it immediately gave Jorunn more respect in Edward’s eyes.</p>
<p>We sat talking about various things for a few hours until I could tell it was getting to be late. I told Edward that I needed to go soon, to make camp outside of the town’s walls before it became too dark. He wanted me to stay but felt reassured when I said I would return, and hoped it would be sooner rather than later. Of course, as is often the case with visitors, we continued talking for a little while before I made the actual move to leave.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“So, it’s not from you?” I ask, just to clarify.</p>
<p>“Your restoration skills? Gods, no.” Edward shakes his head, a small grin forming on his face. “Those particular talents never got passed down to me. My mother was a fantastic healer, though. Worked in the royal court for several years before the stress became too much. I think it must have just skipped a generation.” He looks to my staff I had laid by the door, then back to me. “You said Kaia’s friend gave that to you when you were a youth?”</p>
<p>“Yes. He also helped me train with it a little bit. Our abilities carry great parallels—he’s able to use one, too, although he rarely does. He’s always preferred swords.”</p>
<p>“And Kaia?”</p>
<p>“Sword and shield. She can weild two swords at once, though—when the time calls for it.”</p>
<p>He looks a little disturbed as he asks, “And you only know how to use a restoration staff?”</p>
<p>“Mother—er, Kaia didn’t want me to get hurt growing up, so I don’t have much practice with offensive weapons.”</p>
<p>He slaps his knee after a minute of silence. “Well, in that case, before you go, my boy…” Edward gets up from his seat on the bed and moves to a couple crates near the door. He finds what he’s looking for with ease.</p>
<p>Coming to me at the dining table, he lays a bow down in front of me. It’s simple in its appearance, reminding me of the architecture I’ve seen in High Rock, so I assume it’s in the Bretons’ style.</p>
<p>He draws my attention back to him when he says, “I used to travel, when I was younger. I worked as a caravan guard for several years, and I had to become good with a weapon. Ranged was always easier than swords for me, although I was never too good with a bow either,” he chuckles. “I retired from that career after a year or so. But not before I met your mom.” He nods to the weapon I now hold in my hands, checking it out. “If it weren’t for having that job, I never would’ve made it to Skyrim and found her.</p>
<p>“But I have the apothecary now. I don’t have a need for a weapon anymore, and you clearly do. I know you came out here to High Rock to find me, and you may go home after this and stay there, safe. But you still have the trip back. Or you may want to continue travelling. It can be very rewarding.” The look in his eyes is melancholy as he looks to the bow I hold. “I want you to have that. Think of it as a way to remember me by,” he finishes.</p>
<p>I look at the bow again. It feels heavy in my hand, as only a true weapon can, I assume—heavy in weight, heavy in accountability. My staff hardly counts as a weapon, as its purpose is to mend, not tear apart, and its build is much lighter—in both senses. I’ve never been close enough with people who use destruction staves, in order to have held or used one of them—although it shouldn’t be too much different than their restoring counterparts that I’m used to. Maybe.</p>
<p>Looking to Edward from the bow, I reply, “Thank you so much. I’ll cherish it.” I grin a little. “I may not be too good with it either, but I’ll certainly practice.”</p>
<p>Evenly, he responds, “I just want you to be safe out there, Ivan.”</p>
<p>After another round of thanks to my birth father for his generous gift, a few hugs, and a promise to revisit, I leave his house. I grab Yngvi off the post outside and head out of town the same way I’d come in.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When I’ve made a small camp—consisting of a fire and splayed-out bedroll—I lay on my back, looking to the constellations above. Yngvi is grazing on what little living grass is around us, already having been watered when I chose our place to stop for the night.</p>
<p>As I lay here, I can’t help the feeling of all my efforts to get here being a waste. Sure, it’s nice to know who my real father is, to have a better sense of who I am as a person, my family’s history—all that. But, at the same time, I feel like Mother was right in keeping it from me. In a way.</p>
<p>I had all I needed growing up with her and Jorunn and Vulf there in The Rift. If I had known about my real mother and father, who’s to say I wouldn’t have taken off sooner, trying to seek answers that I may not have been mature enough for.</p>
<p>Since Vulf travelled a lot already—and still does—I suppose I could have asked to join him in his explorations. Maybe I could have come across Edward sooner and been satisfied. Mother would have been pleased to know I was with someone familiar, in case things went sour—but then again, who knows; she probably wouldn’t have been happy in any circumstance involving me in the big, wide world.</p>
<p>In the meantime, I also could have gotten more experience with fighting and protecting myself. Thank the gods I didn’t have too many incidents on the way here to High Rock, but still. I know I’m not too good when it comes to defending myself.</p>
<p>All this musing is worthless, however. I waited to bring up the subject when I was nearly eighteen, going west once I finally hit the milestone. They’re all speculations that I can do nothing with now. Yes, it would have been nice to travel with Vulf when I was younger. But I know I wouldn’t have been allowed, as Mum had enough of a heart attack when I did bring it up.</p>
<p>My mind is racing as I’m laying here, hearing Yngvi becoming still, settling in for the night. I up look at Masser and Secunda, the constellations. Everything seems small here in Rivenspire when compared to back home.</p>
<p>When I was a boy, I’d lay in the courtyard and stare into the night sky. It felt as if I could just reach up and grab a handful of stars, take them inside and hand them to Mother, like a large bouquet of lighted flowers. I felt like I could scoop up one, if not both, of the moons and hang them from the stable ceiling, giving Yngvi one or two luminated mobiles.</p>
<p>Here, just a stone’s throw from Shornhelm, I feel like the moons and stars are too far—like they’ve been confined from coming closer, from making me feel comforted in their presence. The little bit of home I have available to me here has been restricted from my grasp.</p>
<p>After an hour or so, I fall into a restless sleep.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When I wake, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, I make the quick decision to go home. I thought very briefly about going back to Daggerfall and thanking Ben for leading me to my father—in the very unlikely occasion he actually knew how to lead me to him—but thought better of it once remembering how long it’s been since seeing Mother.</p>
<p>Some part of me is saying that she’s in Eastmarch, spending time with Father in Windhelm in my absence. I pray to the gods that it won’t take a month to get back. And that my hunch is correct.</p>
<hr/>
<p>My hunch was correct.</p>
<p>I enter Windhelm with a bit of difficulty. It seems there was a fresh wave of snow that had graced the town in recent days.</p>
<p>I’ve only been here a handful of times, and my memory of them are hazy, at best. But I do my damnedest as I navigate the city. I put Yngvi in the stables to my right and head toward the palace in the back of the walled metropolis with my things in tow.</p>
<p>Once I’m near the gates, a woman stops me. “Do you have paperwork?”</p>
<p>“Paperwork?” I ask. Curious thing to ask for when entering the citadel—I don’t remember Mother being asked for papers when we came when I was a child.</p>
<p>“Yes.” She sighs like she’s heard it all before, had to explain it all a million times over. “I cannot let you in without authorization. Security won’t permit it. Since the palace sustained damage during the Akaviri attack, we have to be careful who goes in and out.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t have paperwork,” I tell her. “But, if you would, Jorunn—or Kaia, if she’s here—should vouch for me. If you would be so kind as to go ask for them. My name’s Ivan.”</p>
<p>She sighs again, clearly not in the mood for all this. “I’ll go ask. But you, stay here. I doubt they’ll give clearance. So, don’t be surprised to be turned away once I get back.”</p>
<p>I grin at her, smug as can be, as she disappears behind the heavy gates. “Yes, ma’am.”</p>
<p>I’m waiting outside the gate, where I was told to stay—been here a good ten minutes or so, too—when I hear a distinct female voice ask, “Where is he?”</p>
<p>“O-outside the gate.”</p>
<p>The gate opens harshly and there stands my mother.</p>
<p>“Ivan!” She rushes over to me, throwing her arms around me, making me drop my things. It’s been a little over two months since I’ve seen her last—obviously the longest she’s gone without seeing me. I notice she’s wearing a rather formal green dress, fit for Nord nobility—something I’ve never seen her in. “Why didn’t she let you in?” she asks, her volume loud and tone incredulous.</p>
<p>“Didn’t see me fit, I suppose.” I look to the woman that was so snobbish to me before.</p>
<p>Mother turns to her. “You remember his face. Anytime he wants in, let him. Consider this to be his authorization, from here on out. Do I make myself clear?”</p>
<p>The woman looks nervous, almost cowering beneath Mum. “He failed to mention he was your son—”</p>
<p>“I don’t give a skeever’s fat ass,” Mother spits back. “Do I. Make myself. Clear?”</p>
<p>The woman looks down. “Yes, Queen Kaia.”</p>
<p>Mother grabs a bags, handing me one, and ushers me through the gates. It’s not until they’re closed and we’re well on our way inside, that I finally notice what was said.</p>
<p>“Wait, ‘Queen?’ Mother, is there something you want to tell me? Did I miss something?”</p>
<p>She looks at me sheepishly as we head into the great hall of the palace, heading toward the back left, toward the rest of the palace upstairs.</p>
<p>Her voice is quick and high-pitched in nervousness or excitement. “You know all those times Jorunn came to our home and asked me to marry him and I always turned him down?” I nod. “Well, it was inevitable that he wear me down one day, with how many times he was asking. He came by, probably not a week after you’d gone, and asked again. And… I didn’t find it in me to say ‘no’ another time. And… here we are.” She grins, the near-shamefaced expression still on her face.</p>
<p>I stop her with a hand on her arm. She turns, stopping her progression towards the upstairs. “Why do you think I’ll have an adverse reaction to this news?”</p>
<p>She shakes her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re not used to us being married. Or because you see Vulf as a father, too. Or… that we didn’t wait until you got back from High Rock?” She takes a steadying breath. “I told Jorunn that we should have waited… Are you not upset?”</p>
<p>“No! Of course not.” I hug her to me for a moment, rubbing her back with my hand. “This is amazing news. I’m so happy for you two. Where is Father anyway?”</p>
<p>She points up. “Upstairs, in the study.”</p>
<p>“Well, what are we waiting for? Let me see your groom!” She chuckles at my enthusiasm.</p>
<p>We go upstairs to the room Mother says is the study, walking in near silence, other than our footsteps and breathing. She opens the door and I see Jorunn sitting at a table surrounded by bookshelves filled with so many volumes. He’s reading one of them and only looks up when he hears us enter.</p>
<p>“Ivan!” He sounds almost like Mother, when she saw me outside. He leaves his book resting on the table and the sheer weight of it snaps it shut without a marker as he abandons it to come give me a hug. I throw my bag down as he wraps me so absolutely in his arms, making me feel as if I’m a boy again.</p>
<p>“Congratulations,” I tell him as he leans back. “She finally said ‘yes,’ huh?”</p>
<p>“Finally,” he chuckles. “Only took twenty or so years of convincing.” Mother shakes her head at Jorunn, rolling her eyes with a fond smile on her lips.</p>
<p>“So, you live here in Eastmarch now?” I ask Mum.</p>
<p>She nods. “Made more sense. Your father needs to be here for his royal duties, and I didn’t want to live in The Rift alone. Don’t worry, Ivan,” she says at my scrunched eyebrows. “The house is still there, and we can go back anytime. But we can call this home just as much now, too.” She grabs my pack off the floor as she adds, “We can put you in Irnskar’s old room, since he’s hardly here anymore. It’s about the most inviting. I’m not about to put you in one of those stuffy rooms meant for ambassadors and whatnot.” She looks to Jorunn for approval, or a better idea. He nods, and with this, she drags me to a room down the hall.</p>
<p>“Any idea how long you’ll be here?” Mother asks. “Hopefully forever.” She laughs, hoping me to stay safe, I’m sure.</p>
<p>“Well, actually… I was thinking about going back to Daggerfall soon—well, in the next few weeks, anyway.” She looks to me as she puts my packs down on a low table. I add, “So, not anytime <em>soon</em>. I’ll be here for a little while.”</p>
<p>“Did you not find your father?” Mother’s voice reveals her hopes and fears—hope that I will continue to consider <em>our</em> family my true family, fear that I’m wanting to go back.</p>
<p>“I did,” I breathe. “He was in Rivenspire—owns an apothecary in Shornhelm.” I fetch the bow he gave me among my belongings. “Gifted me this as well. Said he didn’t need it anymore and wanted me to be safe. He’s a good man, from what I can tell.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t stay long?”</p>
<p>“A few hours. I told him I’d go back to see him, and he was pleased enough.”</p>
<p>Mother looks a little surprised. “Are you not happy you found him?”</p>
<p>“…You were right.” I shrug. “There wasn’t much reason to go looking for him in the first place. Yes, I did find out my magicka comes from my paternal grandmother, but other than that, it felt like a waste of time. I already have a family—I don’t need to know about that side of my life, because I have all I want with you.”</p>
<p>Mother takes a moment before asking, “Did you tell him about your mother?”</p>
<p>“Of course I did.” At my cynical tone, she furrows her brows, as if I’m being insensitive. “Why would I not tell him about you, and Father, and Vulf, and the life you’ve all given me?” At this, she laughs, her face making a complete turnaround. “What?”</p>
<p>“Well, it certainly feels good that you consider us so absolutely your family. But I meant your birth mother. Did you tell him her fate?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” I chuckle myself at how her expression looked when I took her wording wrong. Clarifying, “Yes, I did. He didn’t take it too well. She was the love of his life, but they couldn’t be together. Something about her nobility status.”</p>
<p>“So, I was right?”</p>
<p>I nod, grinning. “You were right.”</p>
<p>Mother grins herself before looking confused. “You said he’s in Shornhelm and that you’d visit again, but earlier, you said you wanted to go back to Daggerfall. Are you not going back to see him when you head back out?”</p>
<p>I shake my head. “Not for a little while. I want to go back to Glenumbra to thank a man there that helped me find him in the first place.” Her face lifts in curiosity. I continue, “Some stable hand knew who I was looking for when I gave a description of what my father might look like—just from me guessing. He told me exactly how to find him.”</p>
<p>“Well, that certainly was nice of him. And lucky for you. Gods were in your favour that day, I suppose.”</p>
<p>I nod, and after a second, I expand. “He helped me around the city, because you know I didn’t know where I was—I’d never been there before. He showed me around town, where to get food and all that. He even walked me out of the gates and wished me luck in my search.” I feel my cheeks heating up a bit and see Mother notice it, too. <em>She’ll want to know why.</em> I indulge. “He kissed me as I was leaving.”</p>
<p>“<em>Kissed</em> you?” I can hear it in her tone alone, not even counting her facial expression. <em>She doesn’t like it.</em></p>
<p>Afraid to dig myself a hole, I opt for simply nodding.</p>
<p>Mother looks down to the floor, moving to a nearby chair and sitting. I look around to see it’s the only chair, and as the bed is too far from her to hold casual conversation—“casual”—I sink onto the floor near her.</p>
<p>She sighs, puffing air through her nose. “Ivan, I don’t like this.”</p>
<p>“I can tell,” I admit. “I’ve been around you long enough to know the tell-tale signs, Mother.” I grin a little in hopes of lightening the sudden heaviness in the air.</p>
<p>“No, Ivan.” She glances up, her gaze landing on my face and holding me with it. “Not that you got your first kiss—I was much younger than you, I can hardly complain about your age. I’m talking about this man particularly.” She shakes her head. “I don’t have a good feeling about it.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>She continues shaking her head, as if she can’t stop. “I don’t know. I just don’t have a good feeling about him. What else did he do?”</p>
<p>“We had a drink at the tavern. Well, he did—I had tea. He showed me to the market for food for my trip to Rivenspire, helped me pack it all in Yngvi’s saddlebags. He called me ‘handsome’ when he first spoke with me, said he overheard my conversation with the stablemaster about finding my father. Followed me to the Mages Guild to help me.”</p>
<p>“Ivan.” Mother has ceased her head shaking but is still boring holes into my face. “Ivan, you have to be careful. I can’t explain it, but… He’s trouble.”</p>
<p>“He helped me, Mum. How could he be trouble if he showed me nothing but kindness while I was there?”</p>
<p>She sighs, not sure how to convince me of her premonitions. “Just… be careful around him, okay? For me?”</p>
<p>“I’m careful around everyone.”</p>
<p>“Ivan.” She scoots up on the chair to where she can grip my hand. “You’re young, you’re stubborn. I was there when I was your age, I <em>get</em> it. You think you have this world all figured out. You’ve heard stories from Vulf, me, your father. You’ve been to High Rock and back. But I need you to hear me—just this once.</p>
<p>“Not everyone is your friend out there. You’ll find those that will stab you in the back for a bit of gold, and even some that will do it for the entertainment alone. Call it mother’s instinct or whatever you want, but you’re going to run into trouble sooner or later. And I won’t be there to help you out of it.”</p>
<p>I want to argue. I want to tell her that worrying won’t do her any good. I’m careful as I can be when I’m out on the road, even more so when I stop at any given time. I want her to understand that I’ve ran across these people she’s talking about, that I know they exist and are a very real threat. Even though it’s come pretty close in some of my fights on my travels—especially in the beginning—I’ve also come to understand the risks, the possibility of me being the one lying on the ground at the end of the altercation.</p>
<p>But I say none of this. Mother is hardheaded, like I’ve heard her say so many times—and she’s absolutely right about it. If I were voice any of these thoughts, she’d insist on me hearing all the more about her view on it. To bypass the tirade, I simply nod, utter a quiet, “I understand.”</p>
<p>Her responding smile is small. She pats my hand before letting it go and standing, commenting, “I’ll leave you be to get settled then.” She leaves the room and gently closes the door behind her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next couple weeks is spent with Mother and Father in Windhelm. I share stories about my travels, give them details about my birth parents. I try to avoid talking about Ben completely, knowing Mother won’t want to hear about it, and wanting to sidestep Father hearing about it at all. I’m sure she’ll tell him about it sooner or later, but if I can avoid being the one to bring it up, I will do so for as long as I can manage.</p>
<p>Mother gave me a key during my stay. She said if I insisted on going back to Daggerfall, that I should have someplace to stay. She said that the inns were nice and all, but after a long day, nothing can beat a room you can call your own. The key, she said, opened a door to a room within The Rosy Lion—the tavern Ben and I shared our drinks at—and that she and Vulf used it as refuge for some time when they were younger.</p>
<p>I also use this time in Windhelm practicing with the bow Edward gave me, using the targets near the Fighters Guild. At first, my shots were hardly accurate, landing not too far from my feet, and hurting my fingers and arm. After a few days, my aim was beginning to become much better. A week or so into it, the pain started to fade. By the time came for me to leave town, I was almost as familiar with my bow as I am with my staff.</p>
<p>Gallivanting throughout Tamriel for a while, I’m sure, had taken its toll on Yngvi. I decide to leave her in Eastmarch to finish out the rest of her days—however long they might be—in relative comfort in the friendly stables Windhelm has to offer. Mother agreed to care after her mare once again.</p>
<p>I bought a three-year-old stallion to replace Yngvi, so I can continue travelling. He’s a brown-haired thoroughbred that has been broken already—but barely. He’ll hardly let anyone near him. When I asked Afneer, the stablemaster, if he had any horses for sale, he pointed to said horse, but warned me how unsociable he’s always been. I carefully approached him, my hand palm-up in offering. Almost immediately, I felt accepted, as he placed his muzzle into my outstretched hand. Afneer seemed surprised, telling me he’d slash the price just to get rid of him while finding him a good home simultaneously. I hopped on the offer straight away and bought him on the spot, naming him Raido in anticipation for our coming journeys.</p>
<p>My steed and I are now on our way to Glenumbra. Adventure awaits.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Well, handsome Ivan is back!” I turn from settling Raido in the stable to the voice directed at me. I see Ben walking in my direction, a smile plastered to his face, as he takes off a pair of nearly soiled gloves.</p>
<p>“Hey,” I greet, patting my stallion’s flank and turning toward Ben. “How have you been?”</p>
<p>“Ah, the accent. I love it,” he declares with gusto. He takes my hand and shakes it with both of his.</p>
<p>“I could say that <em>you’re</em> the one with the accent.” I glance around the town, to no one in particular—since most are inside due to the light drizzle. “The lot of you, actually.”</p>
<p>He shakes his head, grinning a little. “Well, I’m just leaving work here. Normally, I’d just go home, relax. But I actually feel like an ale this evening. Care to join me—for an <em>actual</em> ale this time, Mr. Tea?” he chuckles. “My treat this time.”</p>
<p>I grin. “Well, if you’re paying, I’d feel rude to turn it down.”</p>
<p>Ben and I leave the stables and head toward the tavern and inn, shaking the residual water off our backs once we’re inside. We take the same table in the corner as we did last time, the barmaid seeing us and coming over after finishing with her current customers.</p>
<p>“What’ll it be, gentlemen?”</p>
<p>“Two ales,” Ben replies. And, as if on cue, my stomach growls. “And a bowl of whatever stew was made tonight—make that two bowls, actually.” She nods and walks away to retrieve our order.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do that,” I tell my companion. “I can pay for my own meal. You just offered the drink.”</p>
<p>“What’s a few more coins? I’m hungry, too, Ivan—it’s no big deal.” He grins shamelessly. “Besides, it’s not too often I get to pay for the meal of such attractive company.” I find my neck growing warm at his words, despite how easy they seem to come for him.</p>
<p>The barmaid comes by with a tray after a little bit, setting two bowls of stew and two tankards of ale down in front of us and leaving without a word.</p>
<p>I go to dig in, but Ben’s hand comes to stop my arm. “Let us first give thanks.” I fall silent as I wait for Ben to continue. “We thank you, gods, for allowing Ivan to come back to Daggerfall, for keeping him safe on the road—from prying eyes and devious souls. Thank you for a hot meal to warm our bellies and a cool ale to warm our veins.” He smiles as he grabs a spoon, taking a bite. I take this as sign that he’s done and begin eating the stew myself.</p>
<p>“I didn’t peg you to be the religious type, Ben,” I tell him around a bite.</p>
<p>He sets his drink down after a sip. “Oh, you have no idea. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” A bite later, “What about you? Any favoured deities?”</p>
<p>“I take after my mother,” I admit. “Kyne always blesses me in combat and Stendarr helps me recover when I’m not so fortunate.”</p>
<p>Ben makes a surprised face. “Kyne and Stendarr? Blending two pantheons, aren’t we?”</p>
<p>“My mother is well-travelled and shows love for many races’ different beliefs and preferences.”</p>
<p>“Well, still. You could take to just the Divines or just the Nordic pantheon, but you chose both as well. Interesting. Any others?” He sets his spoon down for a bit, taking up his tankard and swallowing a few hefty swigs. He seems to not want to talk about Mother—which is understandable due to him never having met her.</p>
<p>“Jhunal—well… Julianos is pretty cool.” Ben spits out his mouthful at this, it landing in his stew. He’s laughing at me. “What? What did I say?” I add to his laughter.</p>
<p>“He’s ‘pretty cool?’ Sounds like you two are rather cozy to one another. D’you meet up for biscuits while you were gone?”</p>
<p>I laugh again. “I suppose it did sound like that, huh? I just meant that I don’t actively worship but I respect him.”</p>
<p>“Big fan of runes, are you?”</p>
<p>I half shrug, half nod. “I just think they’re neat.”</p>
<p>He chuckles again, making sure his mouth is clear first. “You’re something else.”</p>
<p>After a bit of silence, I’m surprised he hasn’t brought it up, so I decide to finally broach the topic. “So, I found my father.”</p>
<p>“Did you? I knew you could. In Shornhelm, right?”</p>
<p>“Mhmm.”</p>
<p>He takes another bite, and after swallowing, “Learn anything you were hoping for?”</p>
<p>“It was just nice to know where I came from finally. Not that I feel like I needed it. I realized afterward that I was given a good life by the family that took me in.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad you were able to wrap up some loose ends, at the very least.”</p>
<p>The next couple hours flies by with easy conversation. The barmaid had come to refill our tankards a few times after taking our empty bowls away, offering that afternoon’s honey bread for a desert, which we both turned down. I began to feel lightheaded, but in a good way. I was warm and content with where I was, who I was talking with. Might’ve been the ale, but it’s debatable.</p>
<p>When the nigh hours of the morn began approaching, I decided I needed to find the room Mother all but handed down to me. I pulled the key out of my bag and asked the barkeep where he thought the room it belonged to was. He wasn’t sure, but Ben—who <em>nearly</em> staggered his way over to me at the bar, but otherwise managed—pointed to another remote corner of the room, where a lone door stood, very little around it—as if it hadn’t been used in years. I went to it and was satisfied that the key fit into the lock with ease.</p>
<p>I offered Ben to come inside to continue our conversation before I’d settle down for the night.</p>
<p>The conversation didn’t continue.</p>
<p>Before I knew it, I was slammed against the wall, being kissed senseless before I could even get a feel for the room and its contents. The taste of ale was all I could register, right behind Ben’s body being pressed up close to mine.</p>
<p>At first, I was shocked to say the least, sure. But after a few seconds, my lips started moving against his, learning their way around—learning how to move in this very new way. He didn’t seem to mind that I was inexperienced. The best way to describe him is like he was hungry, and I was the only food he’d had access to after weeks in a desert—like I was a cool sip of water and he was dying of thirst.</p>
<p>When he started tugging at the lacings of my trousers, I pulled back, looking him in the eye. His expression matched that of his hungry nature. I was almost scared until I realized I was the one who was causing it—I was flattered then. But I still didn’t want what he did. I shook my head, gripping his hands in my own.</p>
<p>He questioned, “Don’t want to get to that tonight?” I shook my head again. “Okay. That’s okay.” He leaned back in and started kissing me again, instead this time, it was slower and more drawn out, like he wanted to make it last. Like he found that water he was dying for, like he consumed that lifesaving sustenance.</p>
<p>Suffice to say, he stayed the night.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It’s been three years since I came to Glenumbra. I all but moved into the room Mother gave me the key for, and Ben moved in with me. He hasn’t talked much about where he was living before, but this accommodation sounds so much better than what he’s alluded to.</p>
<p>In these three years, I’ve learned so much more about myself than I thought possible.</p>
<p>Although Ben makes me happy, and I <em>love</em> to bring him random bouquets of wildflowers or cuddle up on the bed on a rainy Daggerfall day, I’m never too pleased to initiate… well… us being intimate. It’s always him. Even though I’ve never had a bad experience with him, I never find myself wanting or <em>craving</em> to be with him like that.</p>
<p>I wonder—even now—if I’m broken, all these years later after finally figuring it out. Mother, Father, Vulf, Ben… none of them seem to have this issue. They all seem to want <em>it</em> at nearly any given time, and I’m just sat here in the corner, wanting to want it, but not being able to—not even when my body clearly does. It’s all been very frustrating.</p>
<p>However, I’m still pleased to have Ben’s companionship—that he doesn’t seem to care about my view on things. He doesn’t let it deter him from wanting to be with me, which makes me feel worth I didn’t know possible. Sure, he’ll forget my birthday one year or bring some food back that he knows I don’t care for—but he makes it up in all the pet names, and the praises about how good I feel when we are intimate, and all the times he tells me he loves everything about me. I’m glad to not be alone in Daggerfall.</p>
<p>I do miss Mother and Father, though. I find myself wanting to take my stallion and ride east until I make it to the holds of Skyrim that are home to me. But Ben always makes good points when I do think about it.</p>
<p>
  <em>It’s about to become a big snow—you’ll just get trapped in some mountain range by yourself.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Coin is low at the moment—best not to travel when you can’t afford much food.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They never come see you—why should you have to make the long journey when they won’t even offer you the same courtesy?</em>
</p>
<p>So, I haven’t seen my family in three years. It’s been hard on me, not seeing Mother at the very least for this long, but I keep telling myself that I’m an adult now and I don’t need her like I once did. Ben only seconds this when I voice my opinion.</p>
<p>At the moment, Ben is preparing to leave Glenumbra for Stormhaven. He says Blandine is heading to a stable show and says she’ll need his help. <em>Don’t worry,</em> he’d told me. <em>Shouldn’t take longer than a couple weeks. And we could use the extra money right now, with how much you’ve been eating recently.</em> He pet my stomach in a fond way, making me grin, embarrassed.</p>
<p>“Just a couple weeks, right?” I ask as Ben throws the saddle over the back of his horse.</p>
<p>“You make me feel like I’m going off to a war, Ivan,” Ben laughs. “Yes, it’s just a couple weeks. A few days’ ride there, a week at the show, and another few days coming back. You’ll barely be able to tell I’m gone.”</p>
<p>“I doubt that…”</p>
<p>“Making me feel like a villain here.” His tone makes me realize my eyes have drifted to the dirt on the stable floor, as I look up to see sadness in his eyes.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” I instinctively reply. “I can handle it.”</p>
<p>“My brave man.” He kisses my forehead before mounting his horse. “Be careful who you let into the room,” he warns. “Best not to let anyone in probably. I’m afraid someone will want to take you from me.” He smiles down at me, and I again find myself content with how possessive he is over me. <em>He just wants what’s best for me.</em></p>
<p>“Well, I’m off,” he declares, riding his mount out of the stable and onto the street of Daggerfall. “Be good while I’m gone.” He winks at me before riding out the gates to the city.</p>
<p>
  <em>Well, now what do I do with myself?</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>I’m walking through the vast fields of Glenumbra. There are flowers everywhere and the sun is shining. I bend down to pick one of the orange blossoms, its green stem free of thorns. Sniffing at the flower, I hear a rustle in the nearby bramble. Jerking my head toward it, I realize I jerk my head toward my staff, my hand reaching for it before I am even fully awake.</p>
<p>Here, in my room in the Rosy Lion—I realize—stands Naryu Virian. I lay in bed with just my smalls on, not expecting visitors. I bring my hand back toward myself, realizing I don’t need my staff after all.</p>
<p>“Naryu. What are you doing here?” I sit up a little, noticing she’s in nothing but her underclothes as well.</p>
<p>“I told you one of these nights you’d find me in your room, Hero.” She saunters toward me.</p>
<p>“This late?” I ask.</p>
<p>“When else would you expect me? Middle day, when you’re off meandering throughout Tamriel?” she retorts. She always has a comeback.</p>
<p>She keeps coming toward me, eventually climbing upon my bed and sitting close. I lean back into it a bit, not knowing how else to respond to her advance. She’s never been so forward in all the times I’ve seen her.</p>
<p>“So, what are you doing here?” I ask again, genuinely curious. She only finds her way into people’s rooms and houses when she has business to take care of. And most of the business she takes care of ends in their demise.</p>
<p>“Can I not come see an old friend of mine? And, as for the time, you wouldn’t want those outside to know about my visit, now would you?” With this, at least I know her plans aren’t to execute me for some unknown thing I might have done.</p>
<p>“I suppose not.” I swallow, still unsure of her reason for being here. This doesn’t go unnoticed.</p>
<p>She chuckles, “Are you that nervous to have me here?” She then moves her leg, straddling me.</p>
<p>“I’m not used to having visitors. What is this about?”</p>
<p>She leans down a little, coming closer to my ear. “Did you think your stares would go unnoticed, Hero? All those sidelong glances during our missions?”</p>
<p>My eyes drift from her face to the far wall. She has me pinned—literally. I’ve only gone on a handful of “missions” with her, as she said. But each time I’ve ventured out of the city, she’s always managed to find me, tagging along for whatever errand I was running that day—be it cave-delving or curse-breaking.</p>
<p>But it’s true. I look at Naryu far more than anyone else when I’m in her presence. There’s only a few people I notice a little more than others. And she’s certainly ranked among them.</p>
<p>Despite my broken brain, I can feel myself rising to meet the occasion at her implications. This doesn’t go unnoticed by her either. She grins.</p>
<p>“Listen, Hero. You’re a good man. And you have the skillset of someone who is blessed by the Three. I hate to admit it, but you’re not alone in the whole staring situation.” She looks back to where she locked my door. “Care for some company for a while?”</p>
<p>Normally, I would resist. Normally, I would tell her that I am faithful. That my mother didn’t raise me to go behind my lover’s back. But it’s not like Mother was monogamous either. She went between Vulf and Jorunn both for years, depending on who was nearer. Ben isn’t in town anyway…</p>
<p>My mind is reaching between such an opportunity and Ben’s comment before he left, about not having any visitors in the room, that they’d want to take me from him. But he doesn’t know her like I do. I finally settle it within myself that he doesn’t have to know—that it’s only a one-time thing.</p>
<p>Eventually, I shake my head, finally answering Naryu’s question about company. She grins again and closes the gap, sealing my lips with her own.</p>
<p>             ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>             ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)</p>
<p>I drop her leg, it falling to the bed alongside my body as I collapse on top of her.</p>
<p>“Wow. Ivan. I had no idea. You’ve been holding out on me.” She’s just as out of breath as I am. We lie in silence for a few minutes, the blank nothingness of the after consuming my brain. Until my mind starts to wonder.</p>
<p>Suddenly—<em>very</em> suddenly—I’m not feeling well. It feels like my heart is going to beat out of my chest—the feeling is violent and worrying. My breathing comes to me with much difficulty—more than just the ragged breathing caused by the activity. <em>Is my throat closing up?</em></p>
<p>I reach for my staff, it leaning against the nightstand—that piece of wood that has helped me heal countless people in our endeavors. The same Ruby Ash staff that Vulf gave to me all those years ago in the courtyard of Mother’s house before he disappeared for another year.</p>
<p>As my fingers reach it, it falls to the ground, my grasp not having been enough to keep it.</p>
<p>“Ivan?” Naryu agilely scoots out from under me, standing next to the bed as I continue to reach for my staff. My vision is starting to get blurry. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be conscious—or alive, if I don’t get to that wooden lifesaver.</p>
<p>She sees what I’m reaching for and grabs it, hands it to me.</p>
<p>I grasp it between both of my hands, concentrating as much as this new affliction allows me. <em>Please be enough.</em></p>
<p>I fill the staff with all my life force, a new light forming and billowing from the top. The light feels where it’s needed most, and my body absorbs all it offers.</p>
<p>“Ivan?” Naryu kneels beside the bed where I lay, still on my stomach. I drop my staff back to the floor, the wood clinking as it falls and settles, rolling underneath the bed.</p>
<p>I take a deep breath, settling into the mattress. “I’m alright.”</p>
<p>Naryu makes a sound of uncertainty. “What happened just now? Looked like you were dying there for a moment…” After I remain silent, she raises her eyebrows at me, still wanting an answer to her question.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” I finally answer honestly. “I’ve never had anything like that happen before.” What I don’t say is what I’m wondering what it was: a severe anxiety attack. When my mind began to wonder when I was laying on her stomach, I felt a giant pang of guilt for having cheated on Ben. I’ve had a few similar experiences with anxiety, just never so serious.</p>
<p>She shakes her head, cross at me for making her worry, but climbs over my lumbersome body finally and lays next to me anyway. I flip my head so I can see her. After a minute, despite herself, I see that she’s smiling a little. And despite my anxiety and the guilt that caused it, I still feel satisfied.</p>
<p>I turn my whole body toward her, studying all her features in this moment of intimacy. She gazes back at me evenly. But after a moment, her face shifts. She seems to be holding something back.</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>“You asked me what I came here for. Earlier.” I nod. “Well, I saw you lying there with not much on, and my plans changed a little.” She grins, a tiny thing that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not like I haven’t been wanting to do that anyway, but…” Her features return to their harbored state. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something. Probably close to a couple years now. It’s about Ben,” she blurts. She stops there, not knowing how to continue.</p>
<p>I’m patient as she finds her words, continuing with, “I think you should listen to what I have to say at least, whether you’ll believe me or not.” She sits up, leaning her back against the wall, pulling her legs close to her and wrapping her arms around them.</p>
<p>“What is it?” I lean up on my elbow.</p>
<p>“I don’t know how to say this—I’ve always been a doer, not a talker…” She looks toward my door, as if she just wants to forget about it and leave. “If I tell you, you may want me gone. And I don’t want to leave yet…”</p>
<p>“Then just say it,” I suggest. “Works best sometimes, to just come out with it.”</p>
<p>She nods, thinking for a second. “Okay, then. Ben worships Daedra.”</p>
<p>She’s right—I don’t believe her. “…What?”</p>
<p>“You told me to just tell you.”</p>
<p>“Why do you think this?”</p>
<p>She looks me square on. “You know I know things. I find things out—it’s part of what I do.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to make sure that you were okay over here in Covenant territory, now that you live here, away from home. I watched you with Ben—I wanted to make sure you were being treated fairly.</p>
<p>“But when he’s by himself, up in that loft above the stables, where he used to live before you got with him… He keeps all his ritual stuff in a backpack. He doesn’t want to get found out by his boss. The stable master was already hesitant enough to hire him. She’d heard the rumours. You ever wonder why it seems he has money but no house?”</p>
<p>It’s been something that actually has crossed my mind, so I nod.</p>
<p>“He’s afraid if he gets a house that he’ll get found out. He’ll have more room to put his things, and if his house is ever inspected, he’ll get kicked out of Daggerfall—maybe even Glenumbra or Covenant zones. If he’s not outright killed for it. He can’t risk it, so he keeps it small.”</p>
<p>“Why are you telling me all this? I’ve been with him for three years. You can’t expect me to believe such a wild accusation.”</p>
<p>She sighs. “Because I don’t want you to get hurt. But you have to believe me, Ivan.” Naryu looks at me with eyes unwavering. What she’s telling me is the truth.</p>
<p>“Why would I get hurt? What, does he sacrifice?” I can’t believe my own thoughts, that I uttered that. Ridiculous.</p>
<p>Her tone is somber. “Yes.”</p>
<p>My eyes snap back to hers—they’d drifted to the mattress.</p>
<p>“Who? Just anyone off the street?” I try to think back to the last few years. He’d go off from time to time, sure—but he always said it was to buy groceries. And he always came back with them when he did. I’ve never seen blood stains on his clothes—or anything of the sort to make me question it.</p>
<p>“No, he has a system. You don’t know as much about him, but he’s notorious for replacing lovers often. Sometimes, within days.”</p>
<p>Again, I think of how long I’ve been seeing him. “Why hasn’t he sacrificed me then? If he does.” I refuse to believe this claim so easily.</p>
<p>“Because he feels something inside you—or his master does. Maybe he’s waiting for a certain time, to make it special somehow. I can’t be sure.”</p>
<p>“Who’s his master?” I ask, curious to know more of what she’s telling me.</p>
<p>“I… I don’t know that either. He’s very secretive about everything. I’m lucky to know what I do.”</p>
<p>“Then why is it that you’re accusing him if you don’t even know who he serves?” I scoff. “Seems like you’re making this up as you go to me.”</p>
<p>“I swear it, Ivan. I swear by the name of the Tribunal. Or the Divines, or whoever you want! I would never lie to you. Not about this.” She looks at me in such an earnest way, I can’t ignore it. She has to be telling me the truth—whether I like it or not. And I certainly do not.</p>
<p>I sigh. “Well, what do I do about it?”</p>
<p>“Leave. Immediately. He can’t see you again. There’s no telling when he’ll strike you down.”</p>
<p>I know she’s right. But I don’t want to leave. This room has turned into a place of refuge for me, a safe haven. I don’t want to leave it behind.</p>
<p>But if Ben were to come looking for me for a sacrifice, he’ll know where to look first—what’s become our home.</p>
<p>“Okay,” I tell her. “I need to go, I understand that. But not tonight. I’m not ready to leave just yet.” I reach forward and grip her hand.</p>
<p>She lays back down with me, and I envelope my arms around Naryu’s frame. She seems so delicate. But I know better—I’ve seen her in action. And I’m made glad that she’s not the one I’ll be running from come morning.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I awake before her.</p>
<p>Naryu lays against me, her head tucked perfectly in the crook of my arm, her black hair winding around part of it. Her eyelids are still shielding those beautiful, big red eyes of hers.</p>
<p>After last night, we didn’t even bother getting dressed. She’d grabbed an old wool blanket Mother had left here in Daggerfall, and as we wrapped ourselves in this warm blanket, I asked her something I became curious about over the course of the evening.</p>
<p>“Why have you been calling me Ivan?” I asked.</p>
<p>“Because that’s your name, Hero.”</p>
<p>“See, right there, though. You just called me Hero, like you always do. All night, you’ve been calling me by my actual name. It’s almost weird.” I chuckled, pulling the blanket closer around her bare shoulders.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe it’s because here, in this room with you, I can allow myself to be a bit more vulnerable. It’s not just another mission with a partner—it’s personal.”</p>
<p>“So,” I mused, “are you going back to ‘Hero’ when we leave here?” She just shrugged, grinning slightly.</p>
<p>Even now, she’s lying here next to me, still just as personal, just as vulnerable as she was talking about. I softly hum one of the songs I’ve heard bards performing here in the tavern, wishing I could play it myself on my lute that I left in Mother’s house in The Rift.</p>
<p>After a while, she starts to stir.</p>
<p>“Good morning, beautiful.”</p>
<p>She smiles as she stretches. “Good morning, handsome.” Opening her eyes, she looks at me as if she had a good dream. “How long have you been awake?”</p>
<p>“Long enough.” I move a piece of her hair out of my face. “You mumble when you sleep. Did you know that?”</p>
<p>She looks nearly mortified. “No, I didn’t. That’s not good. What secrets could I be giving away? In my line of work, I need to learn how to stop.”</p>
<p>I know what she means but can’t help but to think of the funny side. What if she told about something that happened to her as a little girl? What if she confessed her love for someone, or something equally scandalous? I chuckle.</p>
<p>“What? As if you don’t.” She seems irritated already, making me chuckle all the more.</p>
<p>“You would know if I did, with how you were creeping around before I woke up last night.” She sighs, knowing I got her on that one.</p>
<p>She changes the subject, “So, when are we leaving Daggerfall? Hopefully before Ben gets back…” She sits up, taking a part of the blanket with her.</p>
<p>“He should be gone to Stormhaven for another couple weeks,” I tell her. “He just left yesterday—but better safe than sorry. I was wanting to pack a few things before we head out anyway. But… I also have a favour to ask of you.”</p>
<p>She looks wary. “And what would that be?”</p>
<p>“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while anyway, but now I have more reason. Could you cut my hair? It’d throw him off a bit if he were to run into me.”</p>
<p>“Not your lovely locks, Ivan. Women of the Pact are known to be envious of your hair. Isn’t there something else you could change? Like shaving your stubble for once. Now, that’s an Ivan signature look.”</p>
<p>“Either you cut it, or I will. I just want it gone—and even, if possible. I’ve made up my mind, Naryu. Will you please help me?” I bat my eyes at her a few times.</p>
<p>She sends a puff of air through her nose, grinning a bit and shaking her head. “You have a way with me, you know that, Ivan?” She glances around. “Have you any shears?”</p>
<p>“Over there, in the trunk, I believe.” She gets up, leaving the warmth of our shared covers, and pads over to said trunk. “Find any?”</p>
<p>“Sure.” She snips them in my direction a few times. “Come sit in this chair and we can get this over with.” She moves one of the two chairs from around the small dining table, placing it closer to the center of the room.</p>
<p>She sighs. “All this beautiful hair, wasted. And for what? A Daedra worshipper.”</p>
<p>She grabs a handful of my braided ponytail—the way I’ve been wearing it almost my whole life—and starts hacking at it with the dull shears. After a minute of effort, I feel a literal weight off my shoulders.</p>
<p>“Wow. Nobody ever tells you how much hair weighs,” I tell her. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Not done. How are you wanting it anyway? How short?” She plops my cut ponytail onto the floor next to me. It’s longer than I thought it would be.</p>
<p>“Sort of how the Imperials wear it, if you think you can do that.” I’m still staring at my hair on the floor when she jerks my head straight ahead.</p>
<p>“Okay, well, you’re going to have to sit right if your order is as tall as that. Sit still, would you, Ivan? By the Three, I’m going to end up nicking you.”</p>
<p>By the time she’s done, my head is feeling lighter than I remember it ever feeling. As if it’ll float off into Oblivion if I’m not careful.</p>
<p>“Wow,” I repeat, looking into a small hand mirror. “This feels amazing. Thank you so much, Naryu—you have no idea how much I love it.” I give her a quick hug and continue looking at my new style.</p>
<p>She thinks I don’t see her, but from the corner of my eye, I see her lift the edge of the rug as she sweeps the hair underneath for me to deal with later. I normally would be upset but don’t care right now, ignoring the fact that I did see.</p>
<p>She makes for the pile of clothing that she abandoned last night. “I should get going—let you start packing.”</p>
<p>We both dress in silence, the air sullen with a sudden heaviness. When Naryu is clothed, she says a quick goodbye with a wish to get out of town safely, and slips out the door quietly. I take the following twenty minutes gathering some things I can’t leave behind and stuff them in a bag. I’m about to toss it on my back when I hear someone on the other side of the door.</p>
<p>I should have locked it once Naryu was gone, but wasn’t thinking. I’m not particularly expecting it to be her again, but don’t know who else would just be walking in. <em>Maybe she forgot something.</em> I’m looking around the room to see if I can find anything she left behind when I hear who had come in when it finally opened.</p>
<p>“You cut your hair.” His tone is upset—definitely sad, but also bordering on anger. I turn to see Ben closing and locking the door behind himself. “You know how much I like to pull on it when we’re fu—”</p>
<p>“How’re you back so soon?” I ask, interrupting him. “You just left yesterday morning.”</p>
<p>“Felt something was wrong and came back.” His head tilts to one side, eyeing my pack. “Glad I heeded their warnings, as it seems you’re about to leave.” <em>Their warnings? Whose—his master?</em></p>
<p>I come up with a quick excuse. “Just headed out to see if there are any dark anchors needing to be cleared.” Even though the dolmens stopped activating with such frequency when Mother fought Molag Bal, they still drop from Oblivion from time to time. I just hope Ben takes my word at it and lets me go.</p>
<p>“Really?” He sounds skeptical. Walking forward, he snatches my bag off my back and throws it on the bed, ripping it open and dumping the contents. “You want to go to a dark anchor with our entire savings of gold?” He tosses the pouch to the side, all the coin we collectively own inside spilling onto the blankets. “You’re taking a week’s worth of clothing to fight at a dark anchor?” He throws all the clothes to the floor. “Thinking you’ll get injured a lot, are you? You’re taking all your potions.” He smashes them to the floor, causing me to jump when they break, the little vials’ contents spilling out everywhere. “And you must be hungry, as you’re taking a few days’ rations of food.” He rolls the apples and bread from the bed to the floor. He turns to me, and I can see a fury in his eyes I haven’t seen in a few weeks, the last time I mentioned wanting to see Mother. “Where are you going <em>really</em>?”</p>
<p>I think quickly, despite the nerves his actions have caused me. “There’s dolmens north of here a little ways. I was taking Raido and seeing if any of them have dropped.”</p>
<p>He shakes his head, clearly not buying into it. “Ivan, Ivan, Ivan. Lying like you are…” He comes toward me, looking me in the eye, as his gaze had drifted to the floor. “…You were supposed to be the pure one.”</p>
<p>I feel a fire blossoming in my gut, starting small but working its way to a blaze. Ben is grinning as he takes a step back. I look down to see what has caused the fire and am shocked to see what it is.</p>
<p>I see the hilt of a blade stuck in my abdomen. I’ve heard stories, I’ve seen passersby with similar dire circumstances. But to see it in myself, to see a blade has penetrated <em>my</em> body…</p>
<p>I want to collapse but feel like I couldn’t move if I wanted to. I want to call out to anyone outside the door, in the tavern, to get some kind of help. But I’m frozen in place, staring at the ornate hilt of the dagger that has claimed my internal organs as its home. I’m looking at it for seemingly a few minutes, when I notice Ben has been talking this whole time. I try to focus on his words.</p>
<p>“—they just weren’t right for it.” He turns to look at me, as he’d apparently been pacing the room while speaking. “All of them. My master was pleased to see that I was so willing to give them all those souls. But they wanted one pure one, and here I thought it was you this whole time—these last <em>three</em> years.</p>
<p>“Do you know the <em>hell</em> I’ve had to endure to keep you happy? All the odd jobs I had to allow you to take, all the cuddling when I couldn’t’ve cared less. The sex was nice, sure—but you have to know it was never enough. I had to put up with your <em>broken</em> brain this whole time. Always me pulling your clothes off first—what if I wanted you to start it first? Wouldn’t have hurt you to—”</p>
<p>I space out, feeling the warmth of my blood dripping from my gut, down my leg, and onto the floor. The dagger is causing a burning I didn’t think a stab wound would cause. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s been covered in poison when Ben confirms it.</p>
<p>“—glad it’s not hard to get. If my master wasn’t so nice, they wouldn’t even bother providing me with the stuff. Imagine making Daedric poison from scratch…” he resumes his pacing.</p>
<p>“Wanted to take you outside of town, where I’ve been preparing my alter all morning and yesterday.” He looks to me pointedly, ignoring my state. “And no, I never really left. Blandine did, but it was to visit some family in the Alik’r or something—”</p>
<p><em>He made a sacrificial alter for </em>me<em>? Was Naryu right when she said he wanted to make it special?</em> He’s still talking, so I try to zone back in.</p>
<p>“—you stop zoning out? I’m trying to tell you what I was <em>wanting</em> to do before you ruined it.</p>
<p>“Like I was saying, I had this alter planned. It was beautiful—some of my best work, really. Took a few hours just to gather materials alone—”</p>
<p>I make the connection that Ben is going to continue gloating while I stand here—barely—bleeding out, until I finally collapse in weakness and die. I know I need to do something, so I make the split decision of pulling the blade out before I can regret it. I know there’s an even bigger chance of bleeding out with it no longer inside me, but I don’t see any other options—any other quick means of protecting what little bit of life I’m currently clinging to.</p>
<p>If he can tell that I pulled it out, he doesn’t turn to look, as he had once again started pacing. He’s now facing the wall, away from me, and looking at the uneven coat of paint with a speculative eye. I just hope the grunt I produced when pulling it out isn’t enough to make him turn back toward me.</p>
<p>Taking two heavy steps toward him, I raise the dagger in front of his neck, and while pulling it toward me, I drag it across with as much strength as I can muster.</p>
<p>It must be adrenaline from the whole situation, but I actually manage to make the cut deep enough to have created a gash in his skin. He turns to me, a look of utter disdain and disbelief on his face. He’s trying to say something to me, but the blood from the laceration just gurgles when he tries. I must have cut his vocal cords.</p>
<p>As he sputters and blood is being spat everywhere, it all becomes very clear and I grow tired of him—not just in the fact that’s he’s trying to kill me with the very wound I now brandish, but all of it. I have a sudden clarity, a sudden view, of how the last three years with him has actually gone.</p>
<p>I’m tired of him making snide comments when something I do doesn’t please him. I’m tired of him giving me all the excuses in the world for me to not see my family. I’m tired of him sometimes “allowing” me to do things around town, and other times telling me it would be better if I were to stay here. I’m tired of him making me feel bad for being who I am.</p>
<p>Without a word, I grip the dagger tighter in my hand and jam it into the side of his neck, the blade going all the way through until the hilt is what stops its advance. He falls silent and to the floor.</p>
<p>The initial shock of being stabbed is wearing off, and with the danger of my murderer eliminated, my body can no longer take it. I crumple to the floor next to him.</p>
<p>Years ago, when Mother decided to train with me in the courtyard while Vulf was away, she taught me how to travel by way of the stars. She said I would need it one day, that taking your horse or a carriage wouldn’t always be practical, that fighting wouldn’t always get you a win—that running was sometimes more advisable. Now is one such time, and I find myself contented that she had taught me something so valuable—and that I’ve managed to remember how to do it after all this time of not using it.</p>
<p>With everything that remains in me, I try to think of the constellations that would bring me close to Windhelm, to where my family is, to where help is. But I rarely studied locations when I was younger, never had the patience and always preferring to learn something else. I find I don’t know how to get to Windhelm.</p>
<p>
  <em>Home. I just want to be home.</em>
</p>
<p>With eighteen of my twenty-one years spent in The Rift, at Mother’s house, I know this location by heart. It was engraved into my essence without much learning on my part. I decide if I can’t get someplace where help will be available to me, I would rather die somewhere I feel some semblance of comfort. I find the right stars in my mind and project them into the space in front of me, glad to see that this form of travel doesn’t seem to care if I’m lying on the floor or not. At least not at the moment.</p>
<p>I close my eyes as I feel a burst of light taking me.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Opening my eyes, all I see is the early evening sky of The Rift. Masser and Secunda loom above me, the constellations a peaceful backdrop for the two moons.</p>
<p>I’m reminding of that night, a few years ago in Rivenspire, when the nighttime sky seemed so far away—how distant and disheartening it was. Now, as I lie here on my back in the courtyard of Mother’s house, a pool of my own blood forming around me like some sort of macabre halo, I’m greeted once again by these fantastical celestial beings—as if they missed me gazing up at them. My childhood friends, in a way.</p>
<p>I can hear Mother’s Argonian wind chimes around me, feel the nighttime air drifting past me—and I know I should be shivering in this wind, but I feel oddly warm almost.</p>
<p>Feeling a sense of tranquility I haven’t felt in a <em>long</em> time—despite the current gaping hole in my torso—I continue to lie here, content, looking up at the sky until my eyes grow heavy and slip closed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It’s warm. There’s no breeze.</p>
<p>Wherever I am, it’s a soft surface. It feels like there are heavy furs and blankets encompassing me.</p>
<p>I find my eyes don’t want to work with me—they stay closed no matter how hard I try to open them. My fingers, however, twitch when I try to move them. <em>At least something is working. I’m not completely paralyzed.</em></p>
<p>It’s quiet. I’m not sure if I’m here alone—wherever <em>here</em> is—or if any company is simply staying silent. <em>Company…</em></p>
<p>I begin to wonder where I am more than before, and since I can’t look to find out, my mind begins to wonder by itself, coming up with its own possibilities.</p>
<p><em>I was in Mother’s courtyard just a bit ago.</em> I feel what I’m laying on with my hand, since I can move it, and find fabric instead of grass. <em>So, I’m not outside anymore. </em>I take a large lungful of air through my nose, smelling my surroundings. <em>Clean. Smells like… bread?</em></p>
<p><em>What if someone came into the courtyard and found me, took me to their home? </em>My mind begins to question what I witnessed—what I <em>swear</em> I witnessed. <em>Did I not kill Ben? Did he find me somehow? What if he still wants to sacrifice me? Am I dead right now?</em></p>
<p>I suddenly notice the lack of pain that I <em>was</em> feeling in my abdomen, all the lingering effects of the poison throughout my body seemingly gone as well. I find I’m more confused about my situation the longer I try to make sense of it. I try again and find I can move my body a little now, now that I’ve been awake for a bit. I can’t stifle the groan as I realize how stiff I am, probably from being in one position for a while, from the feel of it.</p>
<p>“Ivan?”</p>
<p>I can finally open my eyes.</p>
<p>I’m in Father’s chambers in the Palace of the Kings. He’s sat on a chair next to the bed, where I am. He looks as if he hasn’t slept in a few days, dark circles having made his eyes their new home.</p>
<p>Seeing how confused I am as I look around the room, wondering how I got to be in Eastmarch, he answers my silent curiosity.</p>
<p>“Your mother felt something was off back home, travelled to you and brought you back. She saved you.” He goes quiet, despite his expression telling me there’s more to it.</p>
<p>With how slowly my mind is coming to, I’ve failed to realize it’s just me and him in here. Mum is nowhere to be found.</p>
<p>I don’t trust my voice enough to ask for more details, so I reach my hand out to him in hopes of him understanding, but he just takes it like a lifeline. My brows crumple in response. I try to speak anyway, needing to know.</p>
<p>“Where’s Mother?” I croak. With this, I see a single tear rolling down his cheek, taking refuge in his beard. He grips my hand tighter, his gaze avoiding mine. “Father?” He still doesn’t respond, so I call him something I rarely call him to his face. “Jorunn, tell me where Mother is.”</p>
<p>There’s no way she could have gotten hurt. If she travelled by way of the stars back home, travelling the same way back here, there’s no way she could have gotten hurt. No bandits, no steep inclines to fall down. Nothing. She has to be fine. But his tears confuse me.</p>
<p>Jorunn looks to me finally. “You mom and I were here the other night, getting ready to go to sleep when she started acting different, said she could feel something was wrong at her house in The Rift—something to do with you. She stood from bed immediately and left.</p>
<p>“I was surprised when she came back here, landing right here in our room, you lying on the floor next to her. You’d been stabbed. I was even more surprised that she was able to come back with how hard she was crying. She screamed at me to get the healers, so I did.</p>
<p>“When I got back with two healers from the Mages Guild, she’d somehow gotten you onto the bed and cleaned up a little. The healers went to work immediately, but nothing was working.</p>
<p>“Even with the healers there, trying to work over you, your mother refused to get out of their way, never letting go of your hand—” He stops suddenly, his voice breaking as he looks away again.</p>
<p>“What happened?” I can’t get my own voice past a whisper. I can tell he’s not upset about me—I feel completely fine—so, it must be her he’s distressed about. “What happened to her?” Even in its whispered state, I hear it crack.</p>
<p>Jorunn’s now whispering, too, as if too much volume will shatter either one of us. “I tried to get her to reconsider, but she was just so dead-set on it.” He swallows thickly.</p>
<p>I take my hand out of his, tired of half-explanations. I cut through the heavy atmosphere, my volume making him jump a little. “<em>Where</em> is Mother?”</p>
<p>He looks at me for a moment before uttering, “Oblivion.”</p>
<p>I can feel my facial expression shift to one of shock. <em>Oblivion? Why on Nirn is she in Oblivion?</em> My breathing and heartrate pick up, knowing something has gone awry.</p>
<p>Without need for prompting, Father continues. “When the healers’ magicka wasn’t helping you, Kaia stood up from where she was on the bed next to you. She said she wanted to—” He takes a deep breath. “She wanted to open a portal to Oblivion and see if Meridia could help you. She said she’d dealt with her before and thought she was a good fit, since she’s apparently the Daedric Prince of life and energy.</p>
<p>“Of course I didn’t want that. Making a deal with a Daedric Prince? How stupid could she be? But you’ve known her long enough—”</p>
<p>“She’s stubborn,” I finish, looking to the bed’s canopy above me. Without looking back to him, I ask, “When did this happen? How long ago?”</p>
<p>“Two days. The healers put you in a paralysis for better healing.”</p>
<p>“Do you know what the terms were—what Mother agreed to?”</p>
<p>From the corner of my eye, I see Father shaking his head, looking to the floor. But I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking, <em>It was a life-for-a-life trade.</em></p>
<p>“Before she left,” he adds, “she gripped onto your hand so hard, if you were awake, you would have been complaining. She told you that she was doing it for you, that she loves you so much, that you were the best thing to ever happen to her.” I finally look to him. “That she hopes you can forgive her eventually.”</p>
<p>I huff without humour. “And what about you? How do you feel about all this? You got married barely three years ago.”</p>
<p>“I don’t like it.” I know I make a face that says, <em>No kidding!</em> but he continues without acknowledging my facial outburst. “But, I knew where she was coming from. You’re her life, Ivan. I was barely in her life when you appeared, Vulf had been in and out for years at that point. All she wanted was you to be safe and happy, all your life. And when your safety had clearly been compromised, she reacted.</p>
<p>“I asked her if there was another way, because no, I didn’t want her to go through with it. I know she’s your mother, Ivan, but she’s my wife, too. Just these two days have been drastically different without her here…”</p>
<p>He stands and paces a few feet away, staring up at the ceiling. “I just got her, really got her. All the years of travelling back and forth to The Rift, me to her, her to me. And when I finally had her here with me—everyday, for three years—I had to lose her.”</p>
<p>At his words, I can’t help but feel a stab of guilt. She never would have had to make a deal with Meridia, potentially locking herself away forever, if I hadn’t of been stabbed. And that was inadvertently my own fault. I could have taken Naryu’s warning more seriously and left the night before. Or, even better yet, gotten out of the “relationship” I had with… him in the first place—years ago.</p>
<p>I go to get up, still stiff from laying here for two whole days apparently. I grunt as my muscles protest coming back to life. Jorunn turns around, a bit of panic on his face as I swing my legs off the side of the bed.</p>
<p>“Don’t get up—you need to rest.”</p>
<p>“I’ve been resting for two days. And I feel fine,” I snap, raising my shirt to look at my abdomen. There’s nothing there, nary a scar.</p>
<p>As much as it would make the next guy delighted to see his unmarred flesh, I lament at the sight. It means that Mother really <em>did</em> make a deal with Meridia.</p>
<p>I paw at the area that was afflicted, tears welling in my eyes before I can stop them. To no god in particular, I say a silent prayer. <em>Give me the scar, let me die, whatever. Just bring her back.</em></p>
<p>Jorunn’s by me before I realize, sitting on the bed with me, taking me into his arms. I realize I’m sobbing now, gripping onto him like a child having awoken from a nightmare. <em>This </em>is<em> a nightmare.</em></p>
<p>“Don’t cry, Ivan.” I can tell from his voice that he’s about to start himself. “There’s been enough of that around here these last couple days.” He gives in anyway, leaving us one big mess as we hold each other like we’re all we have left. Because we <em>are</em> all we have left.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I stayed with Father for six months. I wasn’t wanting to get out there in the world yet, after what being out in the world did to me last time. But I was also yearning to see Mother <em>somehow</em> walk through the door and tell us to stop moping about. Although I knew it wasn’t going to happen—deep down—I hoped.</p>
<p>I stayed for six months in hopes that she would come in, relieving all the nightmares I was having. Every night, the same thing: me being stabbed, almost dying, Mother being there for a fleeting moment before disappearing, me searching for her until I woke, crying—and sometimes screaming. Father stopped coming in to see if I was being assassinated after a couple weeks. He had his own nightmares to overcome.</p>
<p>I stayed for six months, until I came up with the idea that I needed to get her out of the Coloured Rooms—by any means. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it—I’ve never possessed Mother’s abilities to call on dark magic or summon Daedric things. So, opening a portal like she did was out of the question. I needed to find another way—and the only way to do that was by going back out into Tamriel.</p>
<p>During my stay with Father, I could tell I had changed. I had gone from a young man that was curious about life, to a young man who was hardened by a grievous life experience. I went from a loving person to a skeptical person. I was sad and I was angry—all the time.</p>
<p>I refused Father’s hugs. I didn’t thank the servants anymore. I didn’t smile or laugh. I didn’t like who I’d become, just as I didn’t like what had caused it.</p>
<p>All I could do was recognize that people change and accept the new me—as much of a dick as he was.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A burst of light leaves me a few hours’ walk from Daggerfall. I’d realized that I left my stallion, Raido, in the stables here in Glenumbra back when I travelled by means of the stars all those months ago. I hope he doesn’t shun me—if he’s even still there. I make my way toward the walled city anyway.</p>
<p>“Ivan!” I look up to see the stablemaster, Blandine, looking at me, her hand on her chest in shock. I wasn’t aware she even knew my name, as I hardly spoke to her. Our mutual “friend” always did that for me, taking those metaphorical reins, like he did with all other situations.</p>
<p>“Is my horse still—”</p>
<p>“Would you like to explain to me how you’re alive?”</p>
<p><em>Not particularly.</em> “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>She looks confused for a moment. “Well, er, I thought you got caught up in it…” Now, it’s my brows knitting together. <em>It?</em> She further explains, “Three years ago, Ben’s body was found in your shared room. He’d been killed. There was another pool of blood next to his body and everyone assumed you were killed, too, and just taken someplace afterward by the killer.”</p>
<p><em>It goes so much deeper than that</em>, I think. But I don’t feel like explaining it to anyone, nonetheless to someone who is hardly central to the events. I play along. “Oh. Um, yeah. Well, I lived and escaped somehow. I—I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”</p>
<p>“Ah, of course! That’s completely fine. I’m sorry for bringing it up. Anyway, as for your stallion…” She turns away, toward the horses, clearly uncomfortable.</p>
<p>She leads me to a brown-haired thoroughbred who seems to be around six years old or so. “I don’t know how he loved you so much, because he hates all of us,” Blandine laughs.</p>
<p>I step up to the horse, not completely positive if he’s my stallion or not. “Raido?” I raise my hand up like I did when I first bought him. The horse acknowledges my motion and bumps his nose into my palm. I grin a little. “Hey, boy.”</p>
<p>I turn to Blandine. “How do you still have him?” I was sure he would have been gone by now.</p>
<p>“Because he refused to be sold off,” she jokes, chuckling as I stroke his neck. “No one could get close to him for the first month or so, but then he lightened up some and let us care for him at least. But anytime someone wanted to buy him, he pulled what can be best described as a hissy fit, and the would-be-buyer would always change their mind. Can’t say I blame them.”</p>
<p>I pat his neck. “Yeah, that’s my horse.” I bring out my coinpurse and start to count out some gold. “How much do I owe you for six months?”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it, Ivan. You’ve had it rough enough.”</p>
<p>“I’ll feel bad if I don’t pay you something for keeping him.”</p>
<p>“Please,” she says as she stays my hand from digging into my gold further and I look up at her. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t accept your money anyway.”</p>
<p>I can tell from the set of her mouth that she truly won’t. I can’t tell if she’s allowing it to slide because of pity or something else, but I decide not to argue with her, settling for a simple, “Thank you, Blandine. You needn’t do this.”</p>
<p>She smiles. “I’m just glad Ben didn’t get to you first. Or that it wasn’t true. I’d heard the rumours, you see—about him being a Daedra worshipper. I feared they were right when I first hired him, but now I suppose we’ll never know. I’m just glad you made it out okay,” she reiterates, and I fake a smile back at her, not wanting to indulge her with the details.</p>
<p>After taking Raido from his home of the last several months, we walk to the stalls where the grocer peddles her wares. Even after all the times I’d come to this very market while living here, I can’t help but be reminded about the time I came here to buy food for my trip to Rivenspire, back when I first met… him. I try my best to shove the feeling back as I buy food for my current travels.</p>
<p>Although I spent very little time in my life travelling on the road, I have to get back into the swing of it, as I had somewhat of a system.</p>
<p>I have to keep a good supply of food with me, for me and my mount both, as I don’t want to rely on just grasses for him. I have to remember that there are safe places to camp just as much as there are dangerous places. I have to keep in mind that fires are a blessing and a curse—while providing heat, light, and a means to cook raw meats, they can also attract unwanted visitors.</p>
<p>All these things, plus more, can keep me alive while I’m out in Tamriel, trying to find a way to get Mum out of the predicament she so willingly walked into.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I started at the Mages Guild in Daggerfall. Talking with the mages in the hall, I found most people didn’t want to talk about Meridia. They’d apparently had a bad run-in with Sheogorath in the past and wanted nothing to do with any Daedric Prince. I could hardly blame them, but I didn’t find myself with the choice to just walk away.</p>
<p>I portaled to Eyevea to see if anyone there would be more willing to discuss possible methods of entering the Coloured Rooms. I found no luck there either—but they did hint at another “secret” guild that might have been able to help me in my endeavours. I became angry at their hinting without guidance, so I moved on.</p>
<p>I traversed throughout Glenumbra and into Stormhaven, spending time in Wayrest, asking the Mages Guild there if they knew anything—and garnering a similar reaction from them than I did their Daggerfall counterparts. I grew tired of the guild and moved on from them completely.</p>
<p>Travelling through Craglorn took a while—nearly every inch of the place was covered with creatures that wanted me dead, and because of this, I made sure to spend as much time being careful and sneaking around as possible. I made it out of there eventually, however just trading creatures for people wanting me dead in Cyrodiil. I spent too much time there—far too much time. But that’s another tale for another day. Making my way into Valenwood, I spent some time in Reaper’s March, Grahtwood, and even parts of Elsweyr.</p>
<p>I spent a couple weeks here, a few months there—the longest of my search being in Cyrodiil when I almost lost myself in the war. Overall, two years passed with the blink of an eye—and I’m no closer to finding Mum than I was when I left Eastern Skyrim to begin with.</p>
<p>I’m starting to find myself forgetting how she sounded when she was upset about having spilt some flour onto the floor, how her face lifted in excitement when Father would suddenly walk into the courtyard. I’ve found that my nightmares have shifted as well.</p>
<p>They no longer are a repeat of me nearly dying and the events afterward. Their emphasis is solely on Mother. She looks to me from afar, turns, and walks away. There’s a bring light behind her, and the longer I look, the dimmer she becomes in comparison to said light. I try to run after her, but the farther I run, the farther she becomes—the light just getting brighter the whole time. I always awaken with a racing heart and my breathing heavy. At least I don’t cry or scream anymore…</p>
<p>Although I’ve never cared for the stuff, I’ve found a sort of solace in the various spirits and ales throughout Tamriel while travelling. It helps calm my maddened mind before bed and makes days of travel a little less lonely. I know Mother would disapprove—and I apologize to her everytime I finish another bottle—but I can’t seem to live without it anymore. It’s too late for me to be reconsidering life choices these days anyway.</p>
<p>I’m in a little town called Riverhold when I hear something maybe worthwhile.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“This one is telling you true, five-claw! Magicka doesn’t get any stronger than with the High Elves. You want to conjure a portal to Oblivion, Ja’nir-Dro does not kid you. Go to Summerset. This one bets you can find some help there.”</p>
<p>The older Khajiit I am currently sharing a drink with heard and listened to all I had to say, a concerned look displayed behind his greying face-fur. He bought us another round, settling in at my table to share with me his knowledge.</p>
<p>“And how do you suppose I get there, old man? Fly?” I ask, not bothering to make my tone polite.</p>
<p>“Ride to the coast, jump on a ship. Docks sound like they’ll be closing soon on Summerset, though—so, Ja’nir-Dro would suggest leaving soon.” He looks around the room and leans in close to me and whispers, “Summerset is where you can find the Psijics. So this one hears.”</p>
<p>“Psijics?” I say this a little too loud and the Khajiit hushes me. A little quieter, I repeat myself, “Psijics? They’re just an old wives’ tale. Everyone knows that.”</p>
<p>“‘Knows,’ yes—but may still believe. This one would be careful in how you talk about them—they can hear you, you know.”</p>
<p>“You’re crazy,” I tell him. “I’m not going to ride all the way to the coast and get on a ship all the way to a closed-dock port in the Summerset Isles over a wives’ tale.” I scoff. “I don’t have that kind of money, even if I did believe in the Order.”</p>
<p>The man purses his lips, making his whiskers stand out. “Tell you what, five-claw.” He digs into his trousers and brings out a bag, setting it on the table. It’s clear there’s coin inside. “Make it to the coast. Get on a ship with this and head to the isle—”</p>
<p>“I don’t want your money,” I interrupt him.</p>
<p>He huffs and continues, “—and look for them anyway. You’d be surprised what you can find when you’re in their territory.</p>
<p>“This one lost his mother as a kitten and he knows what it’s like to live in a world without her. Go find yours, make this old one proud.” He stands and pats me on the shoulder and leaves the tavern, leaving his bag behind.</p>
<p>With no other leads to go off of—and feeling like I’ve tried nearly everything else—I head toward the coast.</p>
<hr/>
<p>I arrived in Shimmerene this evening with less than a welcoming party. Seems the old Khajiit was right about the docks. The High Elves in charge looked at me and all the other races of newcomers as if we carried both fleas and the plague at best and wanted to disrupt their way of life at worst. Somehow, I managed to escape their lingering gazes and make camp south of town a little ways. Until another gaze fell upon me.</p>
<p>“You’re Ivan, yes?” I turn to see a Khajiit in black and tan clothing, a red mohawk on his head, strolling up to my fire where I sit cross-legged. Without an answer, he continues, “Razum-dar, Eye of the Queen. This one knew your mother when she was younger.”</p>
<p>“How do you know who I am?” I feel slightly more alarmed than I make it seem, although I find I’m hardly alarmed by this strange cat-man knowing who I am—never having met me—for some reason. My years of caring have passed. And, as if to accentuate my thought, without a glass or flagon, I take a drink directly from the bottle of the elven wine I stole off a cart on my way out of town.</p>
<p>“Ah, as an Eye of the Queen, it’s this one’s job to know things others do not. Probably best if we leave it at that, my friend.” Without invitation, he sits on the ground across the fire from me.</p>
<p>We sit in silence for a little while, and despite the odd circumstances, I can barely say I’m made uncomfortable by him. After a few minutes of staring into my meager fire, little running through my head, my new “friend” speaks.</p>
<p>“As much as this one likes to sit and brood by the fire, Razum-dar has a proposition for you.” I look up at him in curiosity. He continues, “There are some people missing and this one wants you to look into it—some people are like you and they just got here, but some have been here for years and were just now taken. Raz suspects the High Elves of something bizarre, but they know his face too well by now to go unnoticed. Could you do your new friend a favour and look around the monastery in Shimmerene for the missing people? Raz thinks that is where they are all being held.”</p>
<p>In another life, I would have jumped at the opportunity to help strangers, especially those in potential danger. But now, with everything I’ve gone through, I find myself questioning why I should even consider it. “And why would I help you, a stranger, look for people that may not be at risk—other strangers?”</p>
<p>“Because your mother would. And you know it.” He looks so deep into my eyes, it’s like he can feel my heartbeat, my very emotions, through his gaze.</p>
<p>I finish the rest of my bottle of wine—a good third of it left—and chuck it into the bushes with as much force as I can manage. “Well, I’m not my mother, Razum-dar—if you haven’t noticed that. One big difference being I’m still here.” I bury my face into my hand, bracing the other into a fist on my thigh.</p>
<p>Ignoring my outburst, the Khajiit resumes, “If you do this, not only will you help people that otherwise have no chance, but you may be surprised—you may run into something or someone that can help <em>you</em>.” I glance up at him, annoyed in his vague wording. “Help <em>her</em>,” he amends and I feel my face shift from irritation to bewilderment. With this, he stands and goes to walk in the direction he came from. “Raz can help you get into the monastery in the morning, after you get some much needed rest. Hope to see you there, Ivan.”</p>
<p>In a matter of twenty minutes, the Khajiit came and gone. Although he didn’t “help” me, per se, he did give me something to do while I’m here looking for a way to get to Mother. He wasn’t wrong when he said it was something she would do without a thought. At the very least, I will help folks that may not have another way out of their predicament.</p>
<p>I settle into my bedroll, hoping sleep to find me fast for tomorrow’s events.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As I was on my way to the monastery in Shimmerene, there appeared before me a man in golden armour. It was almost like a projection as he appeared suddenly, seeming like he was trying to say something, then disappeared just as quickly. I wondered for a moment if he was talking to me, but as there were a few other people around, I doubted it.</p>
<p>I blinked in surprise but kept going, moving into the monastery and finding out that there were people more or less being kidnapped and sacrificed to… something. I met up with Razum-dar afterward and we came up with a plan to stop the plot that had happened to take Summerset by storm. We just weren’t expecting the plan to involve someone else—a very unlikely person.</p>
<p>A mage from the Psijic Order.</p>
<p>I spent a good part of the past two years hearing about them, explicitly and by way of hints, and completely denying their existence the whole time. What else was I to do when hearing about a group of secretive mages who moved their island into another plane hundreds of years ago? Hope that I could somehow find one to help me with finding a way to Mother? Doubtful. But, to come face to face with one, and without even trying to make contact myself, was unexpected, to say the least.</p>
<p>I still wasn’t convinced she was who she said she was. Not until I got to Artaeum. After seeing the island itself, suspended in the plane of who-knows-where, I became a bit more swayed to the reality of the Order.</p>
<p>As I wondered around the island, I saw some of the other members of the guild. They were all dressed alike, all performing magic that I had only seen from one other person: Vulf. He said he’d learned magic from the Psijic Order when he was younger, but I never believed him—until I saw the other sages sprinkled around the island doing the same things. I could hardly believe my own eyes. During my time on the island, I managed to even pick up a few skills myself with the help of the Ritemaster and the other mages. I became an honourary member, just like Vulf said he had.</p>
<p>On top of everything unbelievable already, in trade of finding a Psijic sage, it seemed that I also took on saving Summerset from more than just strange kidnappings. There was actually a very real Daedric threat. Clavicus Vile, Mephala, and Nocturnal came to an agreement to try and overthrow the Crystal Tower, using it to control the various planes of existence, while enlisting the help of the Sea Sload—something I didn’t even know existed.</p>
<p>The Golden Knight who showed up from time to time helped us at certain points throughout the whole world-saving ordeal. He turned out to be a vessel of Meridia. The one time I got to talk with her directly, I tried to ask her about Mother, to talk with her about how to get to the Coloured Rooms. But I was shut down—like she was outright ignoring my imploring.</p>
<p>Concerning Summerset, though, everything worked out alright in the end—kind of. Nocturnal betrayed the other two Princes, thoroughly angering them in the process, while a few partners of mine and I reaped the benefits of said treachery, garnering the aid of Mephala and Clavicus Vile in turn. The Night Mistress was conquered, but not without consequences.</p>
<p>To back it up a bit, it turned out that the Golden Knight that kept showing up during my time in Summerset was none other than Darien Gautier—of all people. He still looked to be not a day over thirty, although Mother met him that long ago, easily. Must’ve been due to him being locked away in his Mistress’s realm.</p>
<p>He told me he was Meridia’s champion, apparently always meant to be. I asked if Mother was there in the Coloured Rooms, since he’d been there since defeating Molag Bal with Mother all those years ago, but he had no idea. He said she must’ve made the deal after he came back to Nirn to help deal with the Daedric triad. Him not knowing upset me, and I almost took it out on him, but decided he wasn’t worth it—or that he deserved it, for that matter.</p>
<p>He was one of the casualties we suffered while fighting Nocturnal. He put his life essence into Meridia’s artifact that he wielded, Dawnbreaker, in order for me to face her with an actual fighting chance. It was a difficult fight, but I came out the other side nearly unscathed, just gaining a few small lacerations here, a large bruise or two there.</p>
<p>After fighting alongside Darien for a while, I had come to appreciate his camaraderie. I’d heard loads about him—how pompous an ass he was for the most part. But I found him to be less insufferable than people made him seem. I was upset when he used the light inside him to cleanse Dawnbreaker of the energy Nocturnal had corrupted it with, but was also slightly comforted that Mother would have some company in the Coloured Rooms until I could get to her. That is, until he showed back up when I was in the Gold Coast a year later.</p>
<p>Darien found me while I was at the market in Kvatch, trying and failing to procure that night’s drink for a reasonable price. To put it painstakingly simply, I was very surprised to see him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>At my mystified expression, Darien grabs my arm and pulls me to the side, leaving the merchant to the next customer.</p>
<p>“Now, I know what you’re gonna say,” he starts, ignoring my jaw hanging wide open. “‘How are you here, handsome Darien, when I saw you… disappear quite a while back?’ Did you not get the note I left in Alinor?” he asks, and I realize I’m neglecting to answer when his brows shoot up in question. I shake my head. He sighs, “Of course not. Well, I left it for you right there in the Royal Palace.” He shrugs as he looks around to the busy marketplace before his gaze lands back on me. “Know of anywhere we can go where prying ears can’t hear us?”</p>
<p>I nod and lead us out of the city’s gates, ducking behind some rocks where I notice few people inhabit. Finding my voice finally, I ask, “Can you even begin to explain how you’re here right now? I saw you die—right in front of me.”</p>
<p>“Ah, see this is where that note would have come in handy, my friend.” He leans against the rock we’re standing near, crossing his arms and ankles in front of him. “I didn’t exactly <em>die</em> so much as the fact that I was just sort of… summoned back to Meridia’s realm. I spent a while there, gaining my energy back and all, and I thought I was going to be a goner after a while anyway, with how I was feeling. …Until your mom came up to me.”</p>
<p>“Mother?” Although he had my attention before, he now has my complete undivided attention. “She’s there…” I meant to ask it as a question, but what’s the point when it was just confirmed what I’ve known for nearly four years now?</p>
<p>“Mhmm.” He heavy sighs before further enlightening me, his tone somber. “She’s, uh… she’s the reason I’m here actually.” Before I can ask what he means, he continues, “She told me about what happened to you, why she was in the Coloured Rooms to begin with. And, before I continue, I just want to make one point, and I’ll move on: you’re a dumbass.”</p>
<p>I scoff as he grins. Letting out a lungful of air, I reply, “I’m more than aware—trust me.” I drop the grin from my own face as I ask, “But what else of her?” I’m starving for information.</p>
<p>“She made that deal to save you, huh?” I nod, wanting him to get on with it. He nods himself. “Noble, if not a bit of a squander.</p>
<p>“Anyway, she wanted me to come and give you a message, although she worded it as ‘give him an earful.’” I smile a little at the sound of Mother’s usual language. “I suppose I’m a sort of addendum to her initial deal with my Mistress.”</p>
<p>I look from the wildflowers around us to his face, my eyes having drifted. “What do you mean ‘addendum?’”</p>
<p>“The deal she made with Meridia originally—well, she added to it. And I don’t want you getting upset with me for all this, Ivan. It was her decision and Meridia’s choice to accept it. I had no idea about it until it was already a done deal.”</p>
<p>“When <em>what</em> was a done deal?” I’m losing patience with his ambiguity.</p>
<p>He sighs, clearly bracing for my bad reaction. “Let me start from the beginning, okay? She told me just about everything.” I relent by nodding, my mouth set in a hard line.</p>
<p>“Okay, so, when you got hurt, the mages couldn’t help you for some reason. Your mom didn’t want to lose you, so she came up with the idea to ask Meridia for help. Your dad was all against it, but somehow, she managed to convince him that this was the only way. She said her goodbyes to you and your father and opened a portal to the Coloured Rooms. She said she’d never done anything like it before, but was happy that it worked. She stepped through and made her deal.</p>
<p>“She proposed to my lady that she would stay in Meridia’s realm until you had died, just as long as you didn’t die from the stab wound or the poison from it. Meridia accepted.</p>
<p>“Your mother was able to see everything that was happening down here, like from a magic mirror or something—I don’t know. But then I showed up after a while, and her plans changed, I suppose.”</p>
<p>I guess, “She got you out of the Coloured Rooms.”</p>
<p>He nods. “I mean, I was in that realm for a good year or more—you would have a better idea of how long I’ve been gone. Kaia and I saw each other from time to time, but it was pretty much just in passing. But then she came to me, purpose in her walk as she came toward me. She’d amended her deal with Meridia.”</p>
<p>“She sent you back to the Mundus. But what more could she give in return?” After he continues looking at me without answering, I get it. “Her vision of Nirn.” He nods again, solemn.</p>
<p>“And—”</p>
<p>“And?”</p>
<p>“…She’s not coming back. Not after you die—never, from the sound of things.”</p>
<p>All at once, I feel like there’s a band wrapped around my head, squeezing to the point of extreme pain. I double over from the suddenness, of both the headache as well as the news.</p>
<p>“Ivan?” I see Darien’s feet move toward me, feel his hand on my shoulder in concern. I heave it off with a force that just makes my headache worse.</p>
<p>“Leave me!” I look up to him. “I could kill you right now! This wouldn’t be happening if it weren’t for you!”</p>
<p>He takes a step away, dazed from my attack. After a moment, he seems to get his bearings as he retorts, “No. It has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with you, though! If you hadn’t of gone and mixed yourself up in that Daedric mess in Daggerfall, she wouldn’t even be gone!”</p>
<p>Darien takes a deep breath as I fall onto the ground, tears that always seem at the ready these days spilling over.</p>
<p>I sit here, wallowing in my self-pity and guilt for a few minutes until I realize Darien hasn’t left, only moving to lean against the rock again. I wipe at my face and stand. I’m not able to look him in the eyes yet, but I want to make up for being ugly to him anyway.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Darien. None of this is your fault. I lashed out and it was wrong of me.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, it was. But I understand why you did it, Ivan. We’re good.” I finally look at him, and he looks coolly back at me. “You have an inn room or something in town?”</p>
<p>“I have a camp a little ways that direction,” I say, pointing northwest. “It’s not easy for me to stay in towns for very long these days—I draw too much attention.”</p>
<p>“Hmm. Never would have guessed that. Especially with your hobby of drinking whatever is fermented.” I go to argue, but I know what he says has merit. “C’mon, lead the way.”</p>
<p>We make our way to the spot I had set up just an hour ago or so before heading toward Kvatch. I again build up the fire I had started, originally not planning on being gone long to begin with. Darien is looking through my food supply as I remember something he’d said.</p>
<p>“You said Mother had a message for me?”</p>
<p>“An ‘earful,’” he corrects as he bites into an apple.</p>
<p>“An ‘earful,’ of course. Well?” He tosses an apple to me as well and I bite down on it, waiting for him to expand.</p>
<p>“First off, she wanted you to know that she could see everything you did between her making the deal and me coming here. She’s disappointed that you’ve let yourself get so out of hand.”</p>
<p>“In my defense,” I start, “she was always here to keep me from going so wild. What else was I supposed to do about her being gone? Just allow it?”</p>
<p>“I think that was her goal, yes. She just wanted you alive and well. She’s a mother, you can hardly blame her. You’re her ‘baby’ and all that. But I think she thought you’d take it better. She certainly wasn’t expecting you to traipse all over Tamriel, drunk out of your gourd, searching for a way to get her out of <em>a Daedric Prince’s realm</em>.</p>
<p>“But, anyway. She wanted me to tell you that she made the agreement of her own free will. She doesn’t need you trying to find a way to get her out of there, because she knew what she was getting herself into. She wants you to stop kicking yourself for what she chose. She’s just happy to know that you’re alright now, that it was all worth it in knowing that you’re safe.</p>
<p>“Secondly, and she couldn’t stress this enough: she loves you. So much. She said I wouldn’t be able to convey this part of her message for crap, but I’m trying here, okay?</p>
<p>“She said you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her and she would do everything all over again if it meant you would learn to forgive her for doing this to you. She knows how hard it is for you. She knows how unfair you think it all is. Just because she left doesn’t mean that she’s not still here with you. And she’s proud of you, Ivan. She knows you can do all this without her, on your own.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to,” I hear myself whisper. “I just want her here with me. I’m only twenty-five. I was supposed to have her with me for another thirty, forty years or more. I was so young when I lost her—”</p>
<p>“And you’ve been struggling to cope ever since. It’s not unheard of and it’s certainly not unreasonable. But at least you had her as long as you did, you know? I don’t have any memory of a mother at all.” I nod, tossing my hardly-eaten apple to Raido’s feet, where he sees and gobbles it up.</p>
<p>Darien grabs another apple from my bag and throws his core by Raido for him to eat, but he just huffs at it, making me grin. “Suppose I’m out of here. Wouldn’t be surprised if I ran into you again at some point in the future, but I’ve told you everything Kaia wanted me to, and I’m guessing you’re going to want to get going now.”</p>
<p>I look from my horse grazing to Darien. “Get going to where?”</p>
<p>“Skyrim. You’ve been feeling a pull to go back, right?”</p>
<p>My brows pinch together. “How’d you know?” I’ve barely admitted it to myself over the years, and I definitely did not mention it to anyone else.</p>
<p>He shrugs. “Maybe it’s because you’ve known all along about Kilkreath but kept forgetting or something.”</p>
<p>“Kilkreath?” Darien goes to walk away. “Hey, what’s Kilkreath?” I call after him.</p>
<p>He answers over his shoulder as he keeps walking, “Head toward Solitude, Ivan. You’ll know when you’re there.” Before long, he’s a good distance away, and I’m still left wondering what this Kilkreath he spoke of is.</p>
<p>
  <em>I suppose I should finally head toward Solitude then.</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>More than pleased to leave Craglorn’s area, Falkreath Hold feels like a warm hug in comparison. Part of me is uncomfortable to be so close to home, but the other part welcomes it.</p>
<p>All the time while travelling, I’ve been asking people where I could find this Kilkreath Darien was talking about, but they all seem nervous at just my bringing it up. Until I start asking people in the Hjaalmarch Hold. They point to the north and tell me to look for the statue. Incredibly vague, but it’s a start.</p>
<p>A few flakes of snow begin drifting from the sky as I’m crossing what locals call the Dragon Bridge. I’m told that Kilkreath is just down the road before I get to Solitude.</p>
<p>As I look up the hill from the road, I can see a very tall statue of a lady with large, feathery wings, and I know this must be the place I was told to seek out. But as I keep riding—trying to find a way up to said statue—I see far, far off in the distance a wall.</p>
<p><em>Must be Solitude</em>, I think. <em>Been a while since I’ve been in a town, and I think I’m sober enough at the moment to restock some supplies.</em> I make the decision to come back to Kilkreath once I get some things, rest my bones in a decent inn for once.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When entering Solitude, I find the tavern first, as is my custom these days. I’m happy to find the inn just upstairs—making quick travel between the two while inebriated—and spend the night in a real bed for once.</p>
<p>The following day, I explore the markets a little, find guilds throughout the city. There’s a magus’s stall that I check out, curious what wares are like in this neck of the woods, but his prices are absurdly high. I bid him farewell and head back to the tavern.</p>
<p>I sit back at the table I claimed as my own the day before in the tavern. Although I’ve had nothing but an ale for breakfast, I’m thinking about having another. <em>This town is already exhausting.</em> I easily ignore everyone in the room, wanting to simply be left alone. That is, until my otherwise perfect day is interrupted.</p>
<p>A man comes strolling up to me—a High Elf vampire. “Good afternoon,” he greets, a small smile on his lips.</p>
<p>
  <em>He seems nice enough.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Battlegrounds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">Battlegrounds</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">Ivan POV</span>
</p><p><em> <span class="u">Welly Boots</span> </em> <span class="u"> by The Amazing Devil</span></p><p> </p><p>Hostile land. That’s a good way to describe Craglorn. There are creatures and people alike at every turn waiting to kill me, it seems.</p><p>Upon arriving at the Cyrodiil Gate Garrison, however, I see soldiers clearly belonging to the Covenant. They don’t make any moves to kill me, but I get a lot of sidelong glances. There’re droves of them, and I’m wondering why there’s so many when my speculations are interrupted.</p><p>“Wanting into Cyrodiil?” I turn to see an older woman who has set down her crate she must’ve been moving.</p><p>“I suppose I am,” I say. I climb off of my stallion.</p><p>“You gotta be a soldier in order to even cross the border,” she tells me. “You’re a Breton, right? But something’s off about you.” I don’t know what she means, or if what she means is meant as something bad. I keep silent. “Come over here with me a moment.” She leaves her crate on the ground and walks to where no soldiers are.</p><p>“What?” I ask once we’re out of earshot.</p><p>“Why are you here?”</p><p>“Why do you care?” I retort.</p><p>She sighs. “I can tell you’re Breton and something else. Nord, is it?” I nod reluctantly. “Thought so. It just doesn’t make sense, you wanting into Cyrodiil. You’re not here for the war, and you’re not typically a violent person. You’re with the Pact, right?”</p><p>As she’s with the Covenant, I stay quiet, but she seems to take it as affirmation just as much as me agreeing. I am curious, though, so I ask, “How can you tell all this just by looking at me?”</p><p>“I’m a battlemage, sweetie. It’s part of my job.”</p><p>“Why haven’t you turned me in to your superiors, since you… think I’m not with the Covenant?” I hope she doesn’t catch my slip up. But of course she does.</p><p>“Just because you’re with the Pact doesn’t mean you want to hurt us. For one, we far outnumber you, since you’re here alone. But you also just don’t have it in you to kill.” I huff at her assumption, making her chuckle. “Well, it’s true—it’s just not in your nature. But, I’ll tell you what.” She looks from me to someone over my shoulder, but I can’t tell who it is by following her gaze. “Your Breton lineage shows more than your Nord. I think you’ll be able to fool them. You can sign up to be a part of our war efforts, among us Covenant folk, and it will give you passage in and out of Cyrodiil. Follow me, and don’t use your real name or accent.”</p><p>The woman leads me to a man a dozen or so feet from us. “Captain,” she salutes. “I have with me a new recruit that wishes to join our ranks.”</p><p>The man looks at me up and down, taking in my stature, and seems somewhat pleased. “Role?”</p><p>I balk for a second until I realize what he means. “Uh, healer.” I struggle to sound like a Breton, making the <em>r</em> sound too hard, but seem to do a convincing enough job as he doesn’t look at me strangely.</p><p>He brings up a board with some papers on them and starts writing as he asks, “Name?”</p><p>“Ivan—I mean… Barnaby. Sorry, I gave you my childhood nickname.” I feel the woman beside me nearly heave a sigh, almost as if in relief. <em>Does she know my name? After everything else, probably.</em> I realize the man is waiting for my surname. I decide to go with my birth father’s name. “Uh, Ashcroft. Barnaby Ashcroft?” It comes out more of a question than a statement. I’m not sure if it’s because of this or not, but he doesn’t seem all too convinced. He writes it down anyway.</p><p>“Well, ‘Barnaby,’” and I can hear the inflection in his voice, “welcome to the Covenant. You’re just lucky we need healers out here. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be getting in.” He looks to another man, down the path a little way, who stands in front of a cart. “Go see our quartermaster and get you some suitable gear, then take your horse and head right out there, alright? Our men and women are dying as we speak.” He turns and puts his back to me, clearly done with the conversation.</p><p>The woman walks with me to the quartermaster’s cart, stands in waiting while I get some armour deemed Covenant-worthy, and walks with me to the gate leading into Cyrodiil.</p><p>“Well, wasn’t that a close one?” she comments. “You’ll be fine out there. Just get to wherever you’re headed and out of Cyrodiil as quickly as possible. You don’t need to be out there longer than necessary.”</p><p>I drop my Breton accent, as no one’s paying us any attention. “I don’t know how you know so much, or why you’re being so kind to me, but I appreciate it.” I try to grin at her, but I’m out of practice, with how sour my mood has been for the last…who knows how long. She smiles back at me.</p><p>“Like I said, you don’t belong out there on the battlefield. Not everyone was built for war, Ivan.” She turns her head and sees a troop coming our way—some on horses, some on foot—heading out to the fields on the other side of the gate. Whispering, she adds, “Stick close to them for a while until you can slip away. Stay safe.” She pats my arm as she turns to leave quickly. I realize I don’t even know her name.</p><hr/><p>I do as the battlemage says, sticking close to the troop of Covenant soldiers, until I feel I can get away from them without really being noticed. But I feel like I’m wasting my time here, as I’m too busy sneaking around, trying not to get caught up in the Three Banners War, to really get a sense for where I’m going.</p><p>I start heading in the direction I believe to be south, but I can’t be too sure. This land is strange and a little daunting, doing a good job of screwing up my sense of direction. I was wanting to start toward Valenwood before “Barnaby Ashcroft” had to go and join the war. Now, knowing I’m at risk with just being here, my mind is a little jumbled.</p><p>Coming across a fort before too long, I take a moment to go in, hoping they don’t question who I am or why I’m here. But as I enter, I see the soldiers around me looking at my Covenant-assigned armour and nodding, as if in respect. I nod back at them, trying not to seem rude to those who far outnumber me.</p><p>As I’m trotting around the fort on Raido, I notice a stall where a woman is selling wares for the war. I decide to stop and see what she has.</p><p>On her little table lies arrows, whetstones, armour repair kits and the like. There are also a few tabards there, ripped and bloodied—Dominion and Pact tabards. I try not to think about them too much.</p><p>“How much for your arrows?”</p><p>She looks at me strange, and I mark it as my accent she finds odd. <em>I’m going to be getting a lot of that, aren’t I?</em></p><p>“Silly man,” she says regardless. “You’re with the Covenant. You don’t pay for supplies. You <em>are</em> with the Covenant, right?”</p><p>I knock on my chest piece with my knuckles, right over the lion present. “Last time I checked.”</p><p>“Well, then. Take a quiver and be on your way, soldier.” I do as she says, slinging a quiver from the table over my shoulder and lead Raido away by the reins before she can question me further. <em>I should probably adopt that accent from the garrison for now</em>, I tell myself. <em>She won’t be the only one looking at me funny.</em></p><p>However, I find I don’t have the need as I decide to leave the fort before anyone else thinks I’m misplaced.</p><p>Riding in what I think is still south, I come across another fort. This one, much like the last, has blue banners and lions hanging all over the place, making me think a good portion of Cyrodiil must be in the hands of the Covenant at the moment. At least this corner of it.</p><p>I go around the fort—since I’m not needing anything and I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself here.</p><hr/><p><em>Yet another fort. How many of them are out here?</em> I question as I keep riding. I’ve passed what feels like a hundred different forts and all of them under Covenant control. Every single one so far have been quiet, in that there is seemingly nothing going on, other than soldiers moving about, readying their defenses. The one I’m riding upon, though, appears to have company.</p><p>I’m trying to bypass it, completely and actively trying to avoid the scuffle, when a Blue sees me and calls, “Little help here, healer!” He must’ve seen my staff in the sheath hanging off the side of Raido’s saddle.</p><p>I sigh, feeling my hand being forced into the situation as I dismount Raido in a hurry, grabbing my staff and running toward the struggle.</p><p>Once I’m a bit closer, I use my staff to pull some of the life essence from the people opposing the Blues—I come to realize they’re Dominion soldiers. There’s seven enemies fighting five of my “comrades.” I notice three are already lying on the ground, dead, next to two dead Yellows.</p><p>I’m distracted, completely stopping my assault as I see another High Elf falling as an Orc gives the final blow. His blood-curdling scream cuts off when he’s decapitated by the Orc’s sword.</p><p>“Hey!” The Breton seemingly in charge calls my attention back to him, as he parries a Bosmer’s swing. “Keep the heals coming, soldier!”</p><p>Despite the shock of having seen that brutality, I try to focus on the task at hand. I’m running around the edges of the fight, trying to keep up with the injuries the Blues in front of me are sustaining, but I find I’m not able to heal on the level that they are getting hurt. <em>I have to do something, or else they’re going to lose. I’ll end up dead, too.</em> It’s not so much for them as it is for me. If the Blues here die, I’m without a doubt going to be next.</p><p>Calling upon the dawn’s wrath, I slam a fragment down—a nova—and hope it’s enough to turn the tables.</p><p>Two of the Blues use the fragment I summoned as if they’ve seen anything like it before, knocking it into the enemies in front of us. It looks to be enough to at least distract the Dominion soldiers, as they scramble to see past the bright blaze before them. The people I’m fighting for at the moment take advantage and push the others, felling another two in the process.</p><p>Their screams still startle me, but I don’t stop my aid this time.</p><p>In retaliation of my move, one of the Yellow soldiers, begins summoning something—and I’m curious what it is, up until I’m affronted by a bone colossus.</p><p>I’m too busy running for my own life—having never dealt with something so massive—to help the Covenant folks at the moment. I can hear as they’re losing, but I’m not sure how to heal them while maintaining a safe distance from the big conjured thing chasing after me.</p><p>One of the Blues sees me running for my life and lends me a hand. He sets some sort of trap and the big guy gets caught up in it. Another Blue fires an arrow into its leg and the whole thing falls apart, right then and there. Fight over—for me.</p><p>I turn to see two Blues are fighting three Yellows. And it happens so fast, I can barely track the movements. Within seconds, it’s down to no Blues and one Yellow. It’s just me versus a Dominion healer. And he looks almost as scared as I feel.</p><p>All the healer has is his staff, and I find I have one up on him, as I carry my birth father’s bow on my back. Despite this, we sort of pause the fight, just staring at each other, knowing only one of us can walk away from this. I can tell he knows just as much as I do that we have to finish it.</p><p>He makes the first move, sapping some of my energy from me, and I feel myself struggling to reach for my weapon. My internal organs feel like they’re shrinking within my very body. Despite the pain he’s causing, I grasp the bow within my fingers and go to reach for an arrow—and I grip onto one. Just one. I realize with dread that I hooked the quiver from the first fort I visited onto Raido’s saddle, and as I look over to where he is—a good dozen meters or so from this battle—I see it where I left it. Out of my range. <em>Better make this shot count.</em></p><p>Still in pain as the healer continues sapping away at my energy, I hook the arrow into the string, set it on the rest, aim, then let it fly. While aiming for his chest, I miss—but the arrow lodges itself into his arm holding the staff, being nearly as effective as I was hoping it would have been, had it landed where I intended. The staff is thrown from his grasp and rolls away—but not completely outside of his limits. I find myself being faced with two options.</p><p>I can either run over to Raido in hopes of him not spooking, grabbing my quiver, and having another twenty or so shots. But by the time I’m even close to being halfway there, the healer more than likely will have his staff again, and the pain will resume, messing with my odds at landing a decent shot.</p><p>Or I could charge him, picking up one of the swords from a fallen Blue, and dispatching of the healer before he can even think about pulling out the arrow in his arm and reaching for his staff.</p><p>I choose the second option—despite my lack of sword skill.</p><p>Running forward, I first sling the bow across my body before I snatch one of the swords off the ground, and keep running until I’m nearing the man. He elects to ignore the new wooden addition to his arm as he scatters to get his staff before I’m upon him.</p><p>When I’m within a few feet of him, he raises his staff up with both hands, crossing it over his body to block my blow, seeming to overlook the pain from the arrow—although the adrenaline is enough to help him block it out, I’m sure. This goes on for a bit, as he continues to parry my hits.</p><p>Suddenly, he gets a surprised look on his face as he looks to his right. “Look!”</p><p>I’m thinking maybe there’s more soldiers, either Covenant or Dominion coming in or creeping up on us, so I turn for a brief moment to look. Mistake.</p><p>With his good arm, the healer hurls some fire at me, singeing where it meets armour, burning where it meets skin. But as he had to let go of his staff with said hand. I see an opening and again swing my borrowed sword. It connects with his arm—his good arm—and he cries out in pain, dropping his staff in the heat of it.</p><p>In this, I see my moment. I plunge straight forward, connecting the tip of the blade with the man’s abdomen, sinking it into his belly.</p><p>He looks down to it, then up at me, before sinking to the ground.</p><p>Looking up at me, I see fear in his eyes. Not like the fear from the beginning of our duel. That fear could best be described as a sense of dread at the possibility of fighting. This fear is so much more—it’s a terror of dying, and me being at the giving end of the ordeal while he lies at the receiving end. He’s at my mercy and he knows it.</p><p>I could stop. I could heal him. Or allow him to heal himself, at the very least. But I’m scared if I do, he’ll just get up and fight me again, seeing the weakness in me.</p><p>It’s true—the man before me is a healer. He’s probably never had to take the offensive stance. But I can’t be sure of this, can’t be sure that he’s not a seasoned veteran when it to comes to fighting.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” I tell him as I shift the blade in my hands, pointing it downward. “It was you or me.” I slip the sword into the column of his throat, blood spurting out onto my hands.</p><p>It’s not an instantaneous death, but it’ll be much quicker than bleeding out from the gut. I want to show mercy, I really do. But it really was him or me. As it will continue to be—them or me.</p><p>I don’t fight for anyone or anything—no banner, king or country—other than a way of getting to the other side. I realize I’ll be in Cyrodiil for far longer than I want or can control.</p><p>And I also realize, right this very moment, that I can’t escape it.</p><p>But, oh well. So is the battlegrounds.</p><hr/><p>The Niben River is just on the other side of the bushes. I can hear it flowing into the bay not too far down the road to my right. As its one of the few fresh sources of water around, I plan on stopping to make the most of it—by refilling my waterskin and cleaning up a bit.</p><p>When I think about it—really think about it—I have come to realize that I’ve been in Cyrodiil for four months. From the moment that I had my first fight to now, I’ve lost count how many people I’ve had to kill, although I’d guess it’s reaching toward a few dozen. A lot of the instances were like the first, in that I came across soldiers from opposing alliances and had to fight my way out. Each battle became easier than the last, and as much as it scares me to think about, I’m glad they don’t weigh on me as much now.</p><p>I ditched the armour the Covenant gave me in the beginning, deciding I didn’t want to support their cause, even if just with the gear I branded. I began using the armour I was wearing before. I’m here for me, no one else. Why should I brandish a signet or sigil for anyone other than my own cause?</p><p>Four months I’ve allowed myself to be out here. I never would have thought I’d be one to join the Three Banners War. But it’s allowed me to get Mother off my mind periodically—take some aggressions out in the meantime while not hurting anyone I know.</p><p>Deep down, I know how she would feel about all this.</p><p>
  <em>Killing people won’t make it better overall.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re only increasing your suffering by engaging in this war.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All the violence is going to start eating at you, sooner or later.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re a kind heart, Ivan. What are you doing to yourself? You’re a healer. You need to let yourself heal, too. And this won’t do it for you.</em>
</p><p>Once out of the bushes, I see the river. I hop off Raido and lead him to it so he can get a drink while I’m doing my own thing. As we’re walking, before we’re all the way to the water, I retrieve my waterskin out of his saddlebag.</p><p>He dips his head to the river and I dip my vessel into it.</p><p>“Long way from the Treva River, aren’t we boy?” I think about the river that runs in front of Mother’s house.</p><p>I used to spend some of the particularly hot summer days soaking in the water there. Mother was nearby of course, dipping her feet in it or something, watching me to make sure no fiendish folk would scoop me up from right beneath her nose.</p><p>The more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize I had a very restrictive upbringing. There were few things I could do without her, it seems. Part of me wishes I had more freedom to experience things other kids would—things Mother got to experience probably.</p><p>However, the other part of me doesn’t blame her for keeping me in the house and to herself. It kept me safe. Being here among people hurting and murdering each other—it’s hard to say I wish I had a taste of that when I was younger.</p><p>Mother allowed me to keep my childhood innocence for as long as I could. And I’m thankful, when it comes down to it. Because gods know I don’t have that innocence any longer.</p><p>“You know,” I continue, knowing I probably sound like a madman for talking to my horse, but continue anyway. <em>Who’s here to hear me?</em> “As much as I don’t want to right now, I’m sure I’m going to want to go back home eventually. Imperial lands are nice and all, I guess, but I miss The Rift. Never thought I’d say that,” I chuckle humourlessly. “But anyway. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. We might never be able to.”</p><p>For the past four months, being here in Cyrodiil, I’ve been wondering this very thing. Deep inside me, I know I very well may die here. So far, I’ve been lucky—whether or not the gods have had a hand in it or not, I can’t be sure—but who knows when it’ll all end? I live day-to-day.</p><p>“You’re from The Rift?” I hear from behind me and to the right. I reach for my bow. “Hey, hey!” The man throws his hands up, and this is when I notice two other men behind him—all Nords—but my bow is already in my hands, aimed at the man in the front. He says, “Easy there, friend. We’re from Riften. Except Puck there. He’s from Ivarstead.” One of the men behind him wave at me, a small smile on his face—and I can tell he’s trying for friendly.</p><p>The other man, not the one who’s been talking and not the Puck character, speaks, and I shift my aim toward him. “What are you doing out here all by yourself? You know there’s a war out here, right?”</p><p>Instead of answering, I continue looking at him, not sure if I can trust them. I can tell my expression can best be described as glowering, but I find I don’t care too much.</p><p>If they’re from The Rift, I can presume they’re fine—that they’re from the Pact. But I can’t be too sure out here. I’ve come across groups I assumed would be fine, but turned out to be just as vile as any other monster.</p><p>The first man says, “I know you can talk, and I know you speak our language—we heard you.” He looks a little nervous as he utters, “We’re from the Ebonheart Pact.”</p><p>“Sig, we don’t know if he’s with us or against us yet,” the other man says. “He’s a Breton. He could be from the Covenant.”</p><p>“But he’s from The Rift. You think he’d lie to his horse about that?” Sig retorts.</p><p>“He sounds like an elf. He could be from the Dominion.”</p><p>Sig looks at him all tired-like. “And we have the Dunmer among us. Miko, there’s more than just the Altmer and Bosmer in the elven population, y’know.” He looks back to me. “Whether you’re in the Pact or not, we don’t plan on hurting you.” Miko grunts out his displeasure. And Sig gives him a levelled look.</p><p>Miko shakes his head. “He hasn’t even lowered his weapon. Sig, we’re in Cyrodiil. We can’t afford to be pacifists. If that’s what you want to do, feel free to die, I guess. But I won’t be one of the deaths here.” He turns and walks toward the bridge leading to the other side of the river.</p><p>Even though I’ve seen people acting “sincere” here in the war’s lands, I’ve never felt this sincerity before—at least from Sig. I drop my bow and place it on my back once again. Sig notices and slowly comes to me, crouching down next to me, while Puck stays put.</p><p>“I’m sorry about him. He’s lost so much in this war, including his kid brother. He hasn’t been able to heal, we’ve been so busy with staying alive.”</p><p>I look at Sig for a moment before finally filling my waterskin, showing I have no ill-intent toward him or the other man in the turning of my back to them. I’m about to start cleaning off my armour when he breaches the silence.</p><p>“You look like you’ve been on the road a while, friend. Would you like to come back to our town and clean up a bit, get a hot meal?” I look to Sig from over my shoulder, look to Puck who is smiling at me from behind him.</p><p>“I’d like that,” I finally say.</p><p>Sig grins and nods. “Glad to hear it.” We both stand and the three of us head in the direction Miko went.</p><p>A minute after we cross the water, he says, “I was beginning to wonder if you were like Puck here,” and at my confusion, he adds, “he’s a mute.”</p><p>I look to the other man, who waves at me again, much like when I was approached by the three of them in the first place.</p><p>“Why can’t he speak?” I look to Puck as Sig answers for him.</p><p>“Not sure why. He just can’t. Puck, Miko, and I were grouped up when we first entered Cyrodiil. Only reason we know where he’s from is because the recruiters told us so. We’ve learned to communicate somewhat, though. It’s not as hard as you’d think when you’ve been with each other for six years.”</p><p>“You’ve been at war for six years?” <em>And here I’m thinking four months is a long time.</em></p><p>“Yeah. It makes us all uneasy to think about, so we try to move on quickly. Speaking of moving on, back to the initial subject. Puck may not be able to verbally abuse you like the rest of us, but he’ll kick your ass in a fight, so don’t piss him off.” He laughs.</p><p>I chuckle in return. “Noted.”</p><p>We walk into the town in silence. There’s not too much here, just a few houses and a shrine to some deity. The two lead me into a building not too far from one of the houses and I see that we’re the only ones in here.</p><p>“So,” Sig starts, “you’re not wearing any of the alliances’ armour. Independent soldier?” he jokes.</p><p>“Sort of.” I scoff. “I’m signed up through the Covenant, but I’m allied with the Pact—more than you’d believe.” I decide to keep my connection to Jorunn to myself.</p><p>Sig and Puck both look confused but don’t ask anything further.</p><p>“Well, there’s a washtub over there, behind the privacy screen. And there should be some extra soul gems lying around here somewhere to charge your weapons, should they need it, friend.”</p><p>“Ivan,” I tell him.</p><p>Sig grins, joining in with Puck’s near-constant smiling. “Ivan. Well, there’s a fire out there and I think Puck and I are going to go see what the womenfolk have made for dinner. You’re free to join us when you’re done in here.” He waves Puck toward the door and they both slip outside.</p><p>With how Sig worded it, and I know he’s hoping I didn’t catch it, but I can’t help but appreciate the subtle way he gave me an out. If I want to slip away after making myself human again with a bath and restock some soul gems, I’m able to just go. After his hospitality, though, I couldn’t just leave and be okay with it later on.</p><p>With the full intent to find Sig and Puck outside once I’m done, I walk toward the tub, and I’m happy to see some kind soul has left it with clean water. The lack of steam tells me about how cold it will be, but the initial shock of the temperature won’t be as bad as the continuous feeling of being filthy. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I undress behind the screen.</p><p>Just sticking the one foot into the water makes me reconsider my filth. <em>Maybe it’s not so bad. I’m sure the dirt on my skin makes me blend in with the environment a little bit better.</em> But I know an excuse when I hear one—even if it’s my own excuse and it’s inside my head.</p><p>I tense up as I put my foot back in, following it with the other. And although I’m only up to my knees in the water, I know this isn’t going to get it. I hold my breath and slam myself down into the tub as quickly as I can without sloshing water everywhere. My body rejects the feeling and I almost fly out of the tub, but I grab the sides, anchoring myself in until I can grow used to the temperature.</p><p>It takes a minute, but after being submerged long enough, I can start focusing on other things—my brain is finally able to contemplate more than my icy surroundings.</p><p>I wash my hair, my body, as I think about the men I ran into on the other side of the river.</p><p>They could have killed me on the spot—I was an easy kill after all, there by myself, and unaware of their presence. Instead, they talked with me, kept their weapons put away when I didn’t offer the same courtesy, and brought me back to their settlement, offering me a means to get clean and a way to fill my belly.</p><p>I couldn’t leave with at least giving a goodbye or saying thank you for their friendliness.</p><p>Once I’m done, I dress and find a few of the soul gems Sig told me about, putting them inside my pack to transfer to Raido’s saddlebag later when I get back to him. I make sure I have everything I own on me and head out to find the only two people I can say I know.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” I turn to see the third man from before, Miko, leaning against the building. He’s staring daggers at me.</p><p>“Sig and Puck invited me here.”</p><p>He sneers. “Of course they did.”</p><p>From how he was treating me before, to how he’s treating me now, it’s unmistakable that he simply does not like me. It may be due to the fact that I was so quiet when they first met me. I can understand his wariness—more than I want to admit. Or it may have everything to do with what Sig said, that he lost his younger brother due to the war. And I can understand his bitterness at the world caused by it. I understand that one more than I’m comfortable with. I suppose I’m just not used to it being other people showing their animosity towards me, me being shown the tension—I’m used to it being the other way around.</p><p>Despite most people getting a solid punch to the gut for acting like this to my face, instead, I decide to do something I haven’t done since Mother left: show empathy for someone other than myself.</p><p>“Miko, is it?” I ask. He doesn’t answer, but at hearing his name, he responds by looking towards me. “I know you can’t trust people. And I’m with you on that one. I’ve been out here in Cyrodiil for far less time than you. I’ve only been out here for four months. I can hardly begin to imagine what six years must be like. And to lose your brother along the way—”</p><p>“That wasn’t their story to tell,” he snarls.</p><p>“No, it really wasn’t, I suppose. But they told me, and there’s nothing any of us can do to take it back.</p><p>“Anyway,” I continue. “I’m sorry about that. I—I lost my mother. Not to the war, but because of something I did. She paid the price for one of my stupid decisions, and now she’s gone.</p><p>“I’ve been out here for only four months, and it’s been wild. I’ve… turned into someone I don’t really like. Before I came to Cyrodiil, I was actually nice—a pleasant person to be around. Now? …I’m pretty sure an old mutt would offer more company.” In spite of his attitude toward me, Miko grins a little at that.</p><p>“Does it help you?” I ask.</p><p>“…Does what help?”</p><p>“Being here, being able to take out your aggressions on the battlefield?”</p><p>He sighs. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, yeah—in a way, it does. But there’s drawbacks, too. Like you said, it’s changed me into someone I don’t really like. Someone my brother wouldn’t want to be around.</p><p>“…He was only seventeen when we came here. And he only made it for two months before we were herded out there like sheep, ready for slaughter. The other alliances teamed up against our numbers, since there were so many of us Reds back then.</p><p>“He saw the world as this kind of wonderous place. He wasn’t built for this setting. He wanted to climb the Seven Thousand Steps, make it to Ysgramor’s Tomb—just wanted to travel. And so when I said I’d be coming to Cyrodiil, he signed up, too, before I could stop him. He just wanted to be out here with his brother, see the land of the Imperials before he moved on to other places and sights.”</p><p>I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like me when I was his age.”</p><p>“He was like all of us when we were his age. He just didn’t grow up to be like how we are now. I suppose I should be thankful for that… He’ll never live to become the evil men we all are.”</p><p>“Not every man is evil.” I think of the one who stabbed me. “A good deal of them, sure. But not every man.”</p><p>Miko sighs. “So… I take it you’re with us? A Red, I mean.”</p><p>I nod. “Be hard not to be, even if that’s what I wanted.” I think for a second before letting my lip loose. “My mother was married to King Jorunn.”</p><p>“No shi—!”</p><p>“There you are, Ivan!” I turn to see Sig coming over to us. “And I see you found Miko. Hope he’s not giving you too much trouble.”</p><p>“None at all,” I tell him. “I think we’ve found mutual ground.”</p><p>“Sig, you’ll never believe what he told me just now!” I look to the only one here who I’ve been so open with. I give him a look I hope he interprets as <em>keep your mouth shut.</em></p><p>“And what’s that?” Sig asks, looking from Miko to me.</p><p>Miko looks at me for a second before turning back to Sig. “That he’s starving, like I am. What’s on the fire?” <em>Thank Stendarr.</em></p><hr/><p>I followed the men to the fire, where Puck was waiting with bowls of some kind of soup for us all, and the four of us ate in comfortable conversation. It was easy to talk among them, all three of them approving of me, after my talk with Miko. He warmed up just as much as Puck and Sig did as the evening went on.</p><p>I took lodgings near them, using the bedroll I had hanging off of Raido’s saddle. With company I could trust, a full belly, and being clean for the first time in I couldn’t say how long, I went to sleep quickly—and stayed asleep all night.</p><p>When I awoke, the others had already been up for a couple hours. They said they knew what it was like to be on the road and decided to let me sleep in, and I greatly appreciated it.</p><p>The conversation we struck up was just as easy and laid back as it was the night before. I felt I could tell the other two about my family. And so I did. And they had a similar reaction to Miko’s.</p><p>When I was done telling most of my tale, Puck got Sig’s attention and started using his hands to sign something. Sig nodded, looking to Miko, who also nodded.</p><p>It was decided that they would accompany me to the southern border, to where I was originally headed all that time ago when I got caught up in the battlegrounds.</p><p>I told them that it was unnecessary, that I could make it on my own. But they all insisted—even Puck, who I couldn’t understand in sign, came over to me, smacking me in the arm for refusing them.</p><p>With a grin, I had to agree. They coerced me into it after all.</p><hr/><p>As we began our travels, I soon figured out what weapons each of them prefer.</p><p>Sig prefers a two-handed weapon, keeping a greatsword on his back. He says he likes the heft of it as he swings, being able to mow down most enemies with one blow. Miko is swift and therefore likes duel wielding. From a young age, he said his pa had two daggers in his hands and he never looked back. Puck, due to his muteness, tries to stay out of the way while still being useful. He’s carries a destruction staff to accomplish this.</p><p>Our journey thus far has been uneventful, other than for a pack of wolves here and there. Nothing four men couldn’t dispatch of with ease.</p><p>We’re about to approach what feels like the sixtieth stronghold on foot, pulling our horses by their reins, when Miko quietly pulls Sig to the side, behind a tree, whispering to Puck and me, “Get over here!” We do as he says, crowding behind the nearby tree and some bushes. Our hiding wouldn’t do much anyway, if our horses were to get spotted—which would be easy, as they’re completely out in the open.</p><p>“What?” I ask before I properly look at what his gaze is trained on. When I focus, though—Puck pointing toward the fort—I see loads of Aldmeri Dominion soldiers. It’s obvious that they have control of this particular area. And it’s easy to see their sheer numbers, as we’re up on a hill and can see down into the fort.</p><p>“What do we do?” Miko questions, looking to Sig.</p><p>Although he would deny it, Sig is sort of the brains of our little band. All three of us look to him for orders on what to do in moments of uncertainty. And, as if to prove it, he nods, seeming to be pulling a plan together.</p><p>“Well, we can’t take all them on, boys. We’re going to have to go around them.”</p><p>I look toward the large structure, where I see yellow banners hanging, groups of soldiers in formations and wondering around in groups and pairs. We’d last all of five seconds before succumbing to their forces.</p><p>Puck signs something at Miko, and he agrees, “Yeah, the closer we get, the worse off we’ll be. Need to keep some distance. We’re too close, even now.”</p><p>“We can go back the way we came and try to give ourselves some leeway,” Sig offers, “or we can push just a little ways off and keep moving forward.” He points to the left of the obstacle in our way. “Reaper’s March is that way. And that’s where you’re wanting to head,” he says to me and I nod. He sighs. “What do you think?”</p><p>I look back to the soldiers, the layout of the bastion that I can see from here. “There’re no entrances on this side, and it seems like most guards are watching over the gates. I think we’ll be able to just cross over here. Most posts are empty, see?” I point to a few points atop the walls. “I’m no tactician, though. What do you guys think?”</p><p>Miko looks from me, to the walls, to Sig. “Close call, that. I’m standing with Puck. We need that distance. Sig?”</p><p>He sighs, thinking for a moment. “We could go it Ivan’s way. I’m not seeing too many soldiers on this side. It’s risky, but we could pull it off if we’re quiet enough.”</p><p>It’s Miko’s turn to sigh. “It will be a lot quicker than retracing our steps and making a big loop around it all.” He looks to Puck, who shrugs, his face set with his qualms.</p><p>All four of us look past the stronghold, toward freedom from this situation.</p><p>“Let’s just do this.” I look to Miko, shocked he’d changed his mind so quickly. And apparently, my expression gives it away. “What, Ivan? It’s the quickest way. Don’t be so surprised. Once we get you there, we can be more wary on the way back to town.”</p><p>“Well, don’t just agree because I suggested it,” I tell him. “Like, I said, I’m no tactician. Don’t get killed for me.”</p><p>Sig steps in. “It’s makes the most sense at this point. Let’s go ahead. We’ll just be vigilant, okay?”</p><p>I can’t find it in me to argue.</p><hr/><p>The closer we get to the stone walls of the fort, the more nervous I get—the more I feel like this was a mistake. We should’ve done what Puck and Miko said, got as much distance between us and the Yellows as we could. Out here, in what seems to be Dominion territory, we have no back up, nobody else to rely on if our plan fails, no heavy equipment to solidify our moves. <em>Stupid, really. Why did I suggest this?</em></p><p>We’re advancing slowly, and I can tell our horses are getting antsy—especially since they’re still being led by us and not ridden. Thank the gods, though, they’re staying quiet for the most part.</p><p>An arrow lodges itself into Miko’s side. And everything goes into slow motion.</p><p>The sudden impact of the blow knocks Miko onto his side and he rolls onto his back, looking up at the sky. Before I register anything else, I see a small smile spreading on his lips, blood dripping out the side of his mouth.</p><p>I turn around to see a troop of Yellow soldiers coming toward us—they must’ve been assigned to wonder the perimeter of the structure and we just so happened to cross paths at the wrong time. Our horses are running away from the abrupt conflict, trying to get somewhere away from all the swinging swords and firing magicka.</p><p>Sig and Puck take to action, the former running toward the action while the latter stays put and wields his staff in both hands. I quickly take stock of what we’re up against.</p><p>There are five of them—seemingly one healer in the back; another staff not too far from them, although they appear to be focused on destruction; one carrying an axe and shield; and two sword users. They’re ignoring Miko, already assuming he’s out for the count. Which reminds me…</p><p>I run to Raido quickly, thankful he’s not too frightened to have run as far as the other horses. I grab my staff, warding off a few balls of fire aimed at me. <em>I need to get back to Miko before it’s too late.</em></p><p>Running back to our fallen comrade, I gather a cloak of light about me, shielding off any attacks for the time it takes me to heal him. He knows this is my plan and grabs my arm as I crouch next to him.</p><p>“Ivan, don’t. Go help them.” I’m about to argue, telling him I’m here as support in <em>these</em> types of situations, when he butts in, “My brother in Sovngarde awaits me.” He smiles again, like I saw him do as he stared up at the sky. Before I can do anything, he slips away.</p><p>With nothing else I can do, I decide I need to help Sig and Puck.</p><p>Puck is currently staving off both the destruction staff and healer’s attacks, using a magicka shield of his own to absorb most of the damage. Sig, however, is struggling to catch every swing of the three soldiers upon him.</p><p>I trade my staff for the bow on my back and start lobbing arrows at them, disposing of the sword and board pretty quickly. But it only draws the attention of the remaining soldiers, attacking both Sig and Puck. They must not be used to seeing healers carrying real weapons on them.</p><p>Turning my attention to the one doing ice damage toward Puck, I hurl another arrow in their direction, it finding a new home in their shoulder. They drop their staff from the shock of it and Puck picks up where I left off, shooting his own shards of ice at them, turning them into a statue of it before disintegrating into a pile of snow.</p><p>Sig’s sword strikes against the other’s, it ringing out as only metal can. But he miscalculates his next swing. The other opponent takes his mistake in stride, planting the point of his sword in Sig’s chest. Before I can grab my staff, they retract it, only to swipe it across Sig’s throat, slicing deep. Sig slumps to the ground, dead.</p><p>Puck must’ve seen the whole battle while fighting his own. He looks to me, somehow still fighting with the healer, and it looks like he’s trying to draw the other two sword slingers in his direction. He’s waving frantically at me, motioning to the south. <em>He wants me to just leave him?</em></p><p>“No!” I yell at him, trying to pull their attention back to me. But they aren’t having it, clearly only out for Puck now.</p><p>Instead of firing his staff at the three soldiers encroaching upon him, he instead fires at me, sending sharp ice in my direction. It’s his own way of telling me <em>no.</em> Some of the shards connect with my arm, ripping through my armour, and making me bleed. And he’s not letting up—he’s continuing to fire at me and not the enemy.</p><p>I only see one way out of this. And I don’t like it. But I have to do it, if one of us is to make it out alive. I have to make the decision quickly.</p><p>Running toward Raido, I whistle as I move toward him. He perks up and starts coming in my direction. When Puck sees I’m moving—seeming to be doing what he wants—he stops firing at me, and starts to hurl his magic at the remaining Yellows. He smiles at me, waving with his off-hand, as I begin to head south.</p><p>I don’t look, but hearing one of the most softhearted people I’ve known in an age—and a mute on top of it—scream out in pain… It brings tears to my eyes as I let my steed carry us toward Reaper’s March. It’ll haunt me for the rest of my days.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>